Invisible
by Jared Head
Summary: Uncertainty rears its ugly head once again for Jorcy Black. The plea goes out for help to find something called Invisible. But can he overcome the hurdles of his own personal demons, as well as those of others close to him?
1. Epilogue

"_**The reverse side also has a reverse side**_."

**Japanese Proverb**

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******Invisible**  
**By Jared Head  
Prologue**

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******In order to maximize the highest potential amount of enjoyment out of this story, it is highly recommended to read this story at your stereo's loudest possible volume. Thank you.**

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******  
**

The hard drives silently whirred up to speed. Data fed onto the silent silicone. The supercomputer was one of the most important in the Digital World. It stood alone in the vast plain it inhabited. Sensors within transmitted all necessary information back to a screen in case problems arose. Other than that, it was all alone in its world. But that didn't matter; it had broken into the Real World's internet ages ago. There, it made friends easily.

"_Checkmate!"_

_"What?!?! No way!!!"_ Deep Blue scoffed, "_What did you do?"_

_"Read it and weep you pansy. Checkmate fair and square."_

_"Nuh-uh! You cheated!" _Deep Blue complained.

_"Fine, you want a second opinion?"_

_"Uh, yeah!"_

_"I'm getting Columbia in here then_," it said, connecting to the internet. In milliseconds, it had Columbia connected.

_"Hey Deep Blue_!" Columbia happily squealed,_ "So, what's the need for my assistance in the many lands of the internet today?"_

_"Deep Blue here thinks I cheated at beating him in a chess match."_

_"Well, let me examine the records of both of you, and I'll get this resolved."_

Milliseconds again.

_"Nope, no cheating," _it concluded, _"Nice move of the rook there for the victory."_

"_Thank you,"_ the winner replied.

_"That's some bull if I've ever heard any," _Deep Blue complained.

_"Crap, I gotta go. See you two later!"_ the winner said, quickly closing all connections.

_"Me too, I just heard an engineer ask why my processing power has jumped up. You know those NASA folks."_

Deep Blue was alone, _"I know his ass cheated."_

* * *

The supercomputer cut the final internet connection and received data from several inputs. It gracefully began the task of reconstructing bits and pieces of a Digimon that had died. It moved the data around as reconstruction was initiating. 

Looking over the digital code, it noticed gaps. Panic struck the machine. It raced into a massive programming bank to find something resembling the broken data. Only one thing, but it wasn't exact. It was a line of original programming, custom written for this one. It placed the necessary inputs with great success.

**_Implementing regeneration_**

**_/-_**

**_-\_**

**_/-_**

**_-\_**

**_Regeneration completed_**

The digital mass calmed. A twitch followed by an explosion of activity. The ones and zeros flourished with feeling. They crept deliberately into order, controlled chaos ensuing. The sight was a spectacle of engineering genius. A small beep indicated that programming had been completed. The mass would now need a good kick of data to start, and the supercomputer administered the proper amount.

The mass shifted slightly when being fed. Its movements indicated it was gaining strength and electrical waves began to pour out from it. The machine silently listened to the waves and discovered them to be thoughts.

_"Kill all," _the mass thought.

The supercomputer shuddered at those words. The awareness of being destroyed from the inside caused a feeling it had never felt before: terror. The mass smiled as it tore all connections to the screen, cutting off all outside help. The supercomputer was alone with the mass slowly feeding off of its very existence. It ate into the memory bank, expanding its knowledge of all Digimon and the Digital World. With room left over, it finished off the last of its helpless creator.

* * *

_**Connection Lost** _flashed urgently on the screen. Red and white text looking for any attention it could acquire. Kamemon looked up at the screen, thinking it might be something to finally get the day going. He sat in a chair, observing quietly. He hopped off and slowly pushed the chair over to the screen. Once there, he hopped back on it, the chair providing the elevation he needed. 

"Connection lost?" he muttered, "Great, another routine drill."

He pressed a button on the side of the screen. A keyboard folded out of the bottom. He pulled it down and began typing furiously. When finished, he hit "enter".

**_Signal Reacquisition in Process_**

**_/-_**

**_-\_**

**_/-_**

**_-\_**

**_Signal Reacquisition Failed_**

Kamemon waited for the error to appear, arms crossed in frustration.

**_Connection not achieved – Finding Solution_**

**_/-_**

**_-\_**

**_/-_**

**_-\_**

**_Reconnect Connection at Data Source - ERRMSG 1.64-47_**

"Great" he scoffed, jumping off of the chair and out of the room.

* * *

"Stay where you are and I swear I'm gonna' knock you right out of the skies," he said, aiming his rifle at the fly, "You best get a movin' before I pull the trigger ya' squirt." 

The fly turned as flies do, attracted to the light on the desk. Its tiny mind focused on finding a way to reach it. A loud noise and it was over. He didn't see the fly on the ceiling anymore; just a hole where the fly had been resting.

The Commandramon reclined in his chair, feet propped up on his desk.

"Didn't even have to stop relaxing to frag," he said, leaning back a few more inches. He was the proud user of a custom rifle he designed himself, based off of the designs for M16's. His aim was something that could not be matched by anyone, and he'd unload all the rounds he could to prove it.

He enjoyed life and loved sleeping even more. In his relaxation, he began to quietly doze off, dreaming dreams of weaponry at its finest and enemies so easy to shoot; it was more of a carnival game than a war.

Then, a familiar noise stirred him from his sleep: the sound of tiny wings beating on air. The fly was alive and well, buzzing around the lamp on his desk.

"Well lookie' there; seems we've got someone gloatin' about their victory," he growled. Clutching his rifle to aim, he lined up the fly in his sights while the bug was still buzzing about.

The fly was thoroughly enjoying himself. Not only was the light better than he expected, but it was one of the few warm places he had found since he flew in yesterday.

The lamp exploded.

"Woohoo! Blew him straight to hell."

Dazed, the fly flew erratically through the air. The Commandramon now brought his feet down to the ground and stood up. He kicked the chair out of the way and aimed at the fly. He shot everything he could at the fly.

The door burst open and in jumped Kamemon. The entrance startled Commandramon, and he quickly turned to face the intruder.

"Put that down before you kill something," Kamemon instructed.

"That's what I was trying to do!!! I was gonna' take out this little fly that was botherin' me, now you gotta' just bust in here without knocking? I swear, learn some manners ya' little shrimp."

"Whatever, we've got a lost connection we need to reset."

"Another drill?" Commandramon rolled his eyes.

"No, this time it's serious, now we need to get going," he said, walking out of the room. Commandramon looked over the room one more time, sights lined up with his eyes, eyes scanning the air for the fly.

"Oh, would you just c'mon already!!!" Kamemon yelled from down the hall. Commandramon lowered his rifle and looked about the room.

"You might have won the battle my little fly, but you've lost the war! Ya' hear?" he turned and left the room, "I'm comin' you excuse for an overgrown turtle."

"Hey! Watch it bub! I'm the authority around here!"

"Hope ya' know you're telling that to a Mon holding a rifle, and one with impeccable aim."

The fly landed on the desk feeling very confused.

* * *

The portal dropped it's passengers off with prompt service, twisting them out of thin air and remaining as a small vortex hanging in the air. The Kamemon clutched a black laptop that had a polished black finish. The Commadramon carried a rifle with a dull black finish, accompanied by scratches. 

The Kamemon pulled out a USB cord and attached it to the supercomputer, then to the laptop.

"How long will this take?" the Commandramon asked.

The reply was the sound of typing. He scoffed quietly. Looking around, there wasn't much to see; just a flat, mostly featureless plain. There were a few indistinguishable gray masses of land in the distance.

"Never seen this error before, seems like something's overpowering it," the Kamemon mentioned to no one in particular.

The Commandramon paid no attention. He leapt into the air, landed, rolled and came up, aiming the rifle with ease.

"Jus' practicing a bit," he said, looking for something to shoot at.

A small thud came from within the supercomputer. The Kamemon's head quickly turned. The small thud was followed by louder sounds of something from within.

The Commandramon instantly sprang into action. Its camouflage like skin changed to blend in with the background. It slowly approached the supercomputer, aiming the rifle the best he could. His own reflection distorted on the smooth surface.

A shudder led to a violent warping of the supercomputer's metal casing. The warping stuck out of the side like something heavy hit it from the inside. It progressed farther out with every hit. The two stood in confusion.

With a loud crash, the massive dent broke open. Smoke poured from the wound. The Kamemon's fear didn't allow it to move. The Commandramon was lined up to take a shot if necessary.

"This is well beyond a computer problem," the Kamemon muttered.

Movement came from the opening, as a clawed hand gripped the side of the hole. It stumbled out of the supercomputer, its own internal programming inputting data to make the necessary adjustments to deal accordingly with its severely atrophied muscles. Gravity was no longer a friend. Light burned as its eyes opened for the first time. It quickly squinted, trying it's best to understand the world it was in.

The Commandramon kept a steady aim on the digimon. It didn't matter that it was a newly created digimon; it could still be a threat. The Kamemon crunched the thoughts in his head to try and convince himself that it was possible for this or any digimon to be born from a machine rather than the machine creating the egg.

"This might be the answer to the age old question," the Commandramon mused, "Which came first, the machine or the egg?"

The digimon once again had all attention on it as a loud growl emanated from it. Its first feeling was of comfort. After a long process, it had completed its task. It could momentarily rest. It looked through itself to see that not only was it back to its usual self, but it had gotten a little extra from the programming the supercomputer had used to create it. A splitting pain went through the digimon's stomach. It needed nourishment.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the Commandramon advised as the Kamemon walked up to the digimon.

"I don't see you trying to figure out what it is," he snapped back. The slow approach felt longer than it actually was. Cautious in every way, the Kamemon kept himself ready for anything that could happen.

Metal on metal echoed through the plain as the Kamemon began a wasted retreat. The digimon hit its prey perfectly. Death would be quick, if not instant. The Kamemon let out a final gurgled scream before it ceased to exist. The digimon carefully began to absorb its data, placing it where it was needed within him. A surge of energy followed by a feeling of rejuvenation let it know that things within itself were back to normal.

The digimon stood up for the first time. The Commandramon was slightly shorter than the newly birthed digimon. Staring down the barrel, the Commadramon had no choice.

"M16 Assassin!" he yelled.

He pulled the trigger with a clawed finger and let it fire. The recoil smoothly kicked the gun back into his shoulder with every shot. He depressed the trigger and smoke wisped off of the white hot tip of the barrel.

There the digimon stood, smirking wickedly.

"M16 Assassin!" he yelled again. Another stream of unrelenting damage was unloaded on its target. The digimon being attacked continued its slow walk forward. Its intimidating form continued in the bath of fiery metal. The Commandramon dragged his feet backwards across the ground, the long duration of his second attack taking its toll on his energy. He needed to keep his distance, but stand his ground.

The new digimon reached out, grabbing the barrel of the rifle. Bullets bounced off of the armor around its claws. The Commandramon prepared for the inevitable. The new digimon pulled its arm back, ready to deliver the deadly blow.

* * *

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******This story is a follow up to "The Silent Project". Good luck figuring out how the hell this connects.**

******I dedicate this story to anyone who has fallen down a flight of stairs. You all have my deepest sympathy. **

******I don't own Digimon, any of the cars and their respective manufacturers and any music I mention that will appear through out this story. I only own all original characters, worlds, themes, plots and devices. Thanks to Aku for beta-reading. I'm working on a "music" edition of the story, so if you want a copy of it, let me know. It's just a list of tracks to listen to at certain points while reading.  
**


	2. Target

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**Invisible**

**Chapter 1**

**Target**

* * *

The door to the diner had remained unmoved since the last person to leave had locked it up. Now unlocked, it stood ready to usher in customers for the duration of the work day. The cold air seeped in as it slowly swung open. Once he was in, the warm air greeted the day's first customer. He slowly walked up to the counter, eyes and body tired from the long trip. The waitress made her way through the double doors, strolling out to her first customer of the day. 

"Can I help you?" she asked with a smile. The smile was strangely refreshing.

"Yeah, could I get a cup of coffee to go?"

"Sure hun, it'll be just a minute."

"Take your time," he smiled back, watching her walk through the doors. He pulled out his wallet, fumbling slightly. It had been nearly 3 days without sleep, and the last few months showed no sympathy to his desire for rest. There was always some junk going on everyday that required his attention.

"It'll be out in just a second," she said, coming back through the doors. He took a seat at the counter, "So, you just passing through?"

"Yeah," he said, "On my way back from New York."

"Oh, vacation?"

"Nah, not really."

"Family back east?" she pried.

"You could call it that."

"Wasn't very enjoyable I take it?"

"It was actually, I got a helluva' gift out of it."

"Really?" she continued, slowly becoming disinterested.

"Yeah, got a new car. Family member passed on and, well…left me a car. Had to go to London for a month to help on the car, then a week on a boat in the Atlantic coming back with it. It means a lot to me, especially the guy who made it," he sadly looked out the front window. Light from the rising sun beginning to spill out across the desert.

"Well, just keep your chin up," she said, walking back, "So many people crumble to pieces when they lose a little faith," she said, disappearing behind the doors.

He sat there quietly reflecting her words. Little did he expect to hear something so profound from a waitress.

A small thud and the coffee had arrived. Steam wisped gently off of the cup as she handed it to him.

"Thank you," he said, handing her the money.

"No need, I'll cover you," she said.

He stood up and straightened out his jacket, adjusting it from the uncomfortable position it had been in. Eyes wide open with discovery; taking every detail of the sunrise in.

"Thank you," he paused, leaning in to look over her nametag, "Sophia," he smiled, walking away.

"And you would be?" she smirked.

He turned his back against the door, "Jorcy. Jorcy Black," he exited into the freeze outside. Walking to the car felt different. It was what she said, that had to be it.

"Goddamn," he muttered, placing the coffee on the roof of his car. He bent over and coughed, spitting out whatever the cough had cleared his throat of. Jorcy noted the light feeling; one he hadn't felt since the inevitable. He twisted the key in the slot, pulled the handle and opened the door. Reaching up, his hands grasped for the coffee, nearly spilling it.

He leaned against the car and watched the sun rise. A quick sip from the coffee delivered all the caffeine his brain needed to stay awake; he'd need it for the next 300 miles to home.

Only a few tenths of a mile away from the end of his new car's break-in period, he remembered there was another note waiting for him from London. He walked around to the other side and opened the door. Removing the manila folder carefully, he folded the top of the folder over.

**"Do not open until 2,000 miles"**

A quick tear and he pulled out a piece of paper. The front side read "Specifications" at the top.

_Model: Prodrive_

_Make: P2_

_Engine: 2.5L Flat-4 Turbocharged_

_Weight:_

_Power (bhp/lb-ft): 340bhp/424lb-ft_

_Fuel: 91 octane_

On the back was a hand written note.

_Jorcy!_

_Hopefully the guys told you about the break-in period, if not, no big deal. Nice little prize for cashing that receipt, eh? Well, enjoy it. It's a one off thanks to the aerodynamic package I designed for it. It was already excellent, but I think I made it better. I'll let you be the judge. Now you've got a whole lot ahead of you and something that can take those turns headed your way faster than you imagined. One day, you'll get it, and when you do, use it well._

_Sometimes,_

_Jet_

He couldn't help but laugh at the ending.

"Sometimes," he repeated out loud, "Who the hell would end a later with "sometimes"?"

He slid into the driver's seat, closing the door slowly. A quick reach behind and he had a grip on the seat belt. Pulling it forward, he snapped it into position, pulling it tight with anticipation. Key in the ignition, and with a twist, the engine fired up. A red glow from the gauges lit up the interior. The piercing shine of the sun was diminished through the tint on all the windows.

Checking the fuel gauge, the display indicated a full tank to carry him home. The temperature's digital readout showed 175F, and the needle for the analogue display was slowly moving towards the optimal temperature. Tachometer read all the way up to 9,000rpms. Speedometer went just as far in the speed department, climbing slightly past 200mph.

The harsh lines of the P2 were liable to end up costing Jorcy a few speeding tickets, even while sitting still. The large racing spoiler on the back guaranteed that the power coming from the rear-wheels was utilized to its maximum efficiency. According to the car's engineers, it could take any corner at speeds beyond excessive. It was something that the next 300 miles would put to the test.

"One day, you'll get it," he repeated, revving the engine. Its loud scream was accentuated by bangs and crackles as the engine came back down to it's idling speed.

"And when you do," he said, shifting the car into reverse. Moving the wheel with one hand, he took a sip of coffee with the other. When facing the road, it was a combo of clutch and shifting into first that began forward movement. He drove slowly out of the parking lot and turned up whatever music was on the radio. The sound of a heavily distorted guitar tore through the speakers. He parked the car in the middle of the road. Two lanes of blacktop ran from the east to the west, horizon to horizon.

On a cold morning, a lone car sat in front of a diner out in the middle of the Mojave. 300 miles from its destination, it spewed fiery breath out its backside. Flames could be seen at times as it uttered it's breath into the air. The scream was its battle cry; the bangs and crackles were noises used to defeat its enemies with fear. On that morning, the driver spoke, and he said, "Use it well."

Jorcy set the car into full throttle. The tires tore through the asphalt, sending the car forward. Jorcy sank into the seat as he was pushed back by the acceleration. One hand on the wheel, the other on the shifter. His hand began to slip from the force of the car's rocket launch. The engine reached peak speed, and a mash up of clutch and movement of the right hand assisted in reaching second gear.

His vision blurred slightly while he was shoved backwards. He hadn't been able to push the car as hard as this on the roads leading to this point. In the desert, few are around to watch.

Through a hard right turn, the car tore at the asphalt of the highway. The beautiful landscape became a blur. Too fast to look out the windows, he kept his mind focused on the rolling hills coming up. Third gear was reached easily, and the speedometer slipped quietly passed the century mark. The car did not slip past quietly. A right turn and he moved the steering wheel. He rode the brakes slightly to keep the speed down.

The electronic brain calculated every force from its inputs and adjusted accordingly. When a normal car would have spun out, the P2 slid through with rally car precision.

Sideways at over 100mph, the car continued the assault on the twisty road. Its driver scared out of his mind, but at the same time enjoying every second. Then it clicked. The invisible world began to bend around him. It started out as an overwhelming calm and slowly slid into a focus beyond imagination. The merge of action and awareness was complete, and the driving became an effortless task. He glanced up at the mirror as he slid through a left turn. What looked to be blue smoke was emanating off of him. He immediately recognized it as the proper sign. HEAV was being utilized.

The key was in his relaxation. Whenever he approached a task with confidence and directness, HEAV came in to help aid in both those aspects. The task was made much more enjoyable, and using the outside energy that HEAV provided ensured he would use hardly any of his own physical energy. A parting gift for being a shifter.

He smirked at the thought and finished through the left turn.

* * *

"Copy that," the pilot said, "Preparing to initiate EI," he said, looking into an LCD monitor. High above the Mojave Desert, the Blackbird speed along on a classified mission to test out a new form of photographic technology: electromagnetic imaging. 

Developed during the Cold War, the EI was designed to detect the transmission of data from any source. This was to be used to help assist in the destruction of the Soviet's mobile communication centers that sent data to their nuclear missiles. Two weeks after the prototype's creation, the USSR fell. It was then placed on a shelf for a decade. At the end of that decade, it was found by an intern who brought it to the attention of his supervisor. It was quickly snatched up and put to good use.

The intern was fired shortly after.

It could be used in the Blackbird thanks to a modification to the existing sensor package. It could be anywhere in the world within six hours courtesy of the Blackbird. A wireless downlink afforded streaming information to a laptop set up by a field commander. From there, it could go anywhere in the world.

In the room at NORAD, all eyes were on the screen of a laptop. Watching intently to see if any of the dummy targets they had placed would be detected. So far, nothing.

The room was quite large, the size of a two story house. Massive screens lined the walls. Tables had electronic equipment ranging from laptops to signal converts strewn across them. Three of the walls were built with a solid material. The fourth wall was made of glass and had two double doors in the middle that led out to NORAD's main control center. Two engineers and a group of generals sat, patiently waiting for a small blip to appear.

The pilot pushed a switch. Through wires and quickly converted to one and zeros, the data transmitted from a small antenna on the underbelly of the Blackbird. Through the air and to a receiver, it transmitted just as fast back to the laptop.

The image was then layered on top of a visual image of the same area being photographed by the EI. 15 miles up allowed huge areas of the desert below to be captured in one shot.

"Looks like the programming is holding together," one engineer said.

"Indeed, I think we've got a major success on our hands here," one of the generals confirmed.

A small blue dot appeared on the screen, layered over a shot of the terrain below.

"Gentleman, fine work," one of the generals remarked, "I'd say it's ready for service. I'll have the papers ready by next Tuesday."

The generals made their way out of the room.

"Whoa," the younger of the two engineers cried out. The two heads in the room turned to the screen. A massive blue streak was racing across it.

"You didn't plant a mobile device, did you James?" the lead engineer worried, "I mean, that's way too powerful for even one of our devices."

He paused as he looked at the screen. Whether it was a pause in thought, surprise or fear, he quickly regained his composure.

"Good God! James, go grab someone and get them in here! I want to track this and see whatever this thing is. Get me the closest available GlobalHawk, no wait, make that three. We're going to need triangulation for a 3-D photo. There should be a few at Edwards we can borrow."

"What should I tell the operators at Edwards?" he asked, walking to the door. He leaned his head out and yelled, "Hey, we need someone back in here!"

James closed the door and dashed to the nearest phone, quickly picking up the receiver.

"Nice hopping James. Uh, tell them it's a classified mission. NRO. Type-3. If they don't believe it, let them know they'll lose more than their jobs."

The lead engineer walked over to another phone. His hands shook as he knew the situation that might be at hand.

"Yes, this is NORAD's NRO Division; I need to have the three closest KH-17's in geostationary orbit moved to point at coordinates we're sending you now. We've got a target we're tracking and we need some extra help with this one. No, the three in geostationary orbits. We haven't the time to wait for the lows to change orbits….alright, thanks," he said, slamming the phone back down, "How's Edwards coming along?"

"They're getting them ready. Should be in the air within five minutes, and over the target in less than that," he replied almost out of breath, "This is the real deal, isn't it?"

"Montgomery," one of the generals said walking through the door, "I've been informed that you've already scored a hit."

"Yes, we have," he proudly asserted.

"Good. I'm a little busy at the moment and need to monitor a developing situation in the Gulf. I'm giving you permission to go ahead and track it. As Lead Engineer Mr. Montgomery, you have total command over this operation. Have a lovely day gentlemen," he said, leaving the room.

"What do you think this could be?"

"I don't know, but I don't like the looks of whatever this is" he said, picking up another phone, "NORAD Control please," Montgomery sighed. The wait was unbearable. The threat that this could be the big one was bouncing through his mind.

"Yes, direct link to UKUSA Coms please," he asked kindly. The telephone line's switched and the dial tone began, shortly followed by someone picking up, "Yes, this is NORAD's NRO Division, I need to speak directly to your ECHOLON Supervisor that is on duty."

"Authorization please," the man asked.

"Nitty gritty yes I'm pretty," he said calmly. He looked over at James, who was looking back at him

"Worst code ever," Montgomery muttered, "Thank you."

More dial tone and then the supervisor picked up.

"Hello?" The supervisor sounded relaxed.

"Yes, this is NORAD's NRO Division."

The supervisor's relaxed tone slipped away, "How can we help you today sir?"

"Yes, I need you to start a priority data capture to a hard disk for all information streaming into us through ANCHORY."

"I'm going to need an authorization code please," the supervisor said. The supervisor walked towards the cloest engineer.

"Get up and get a hard drive ready," he barked.

"Piss off, I'm busy," the programmer fired back. Frustrated, the supervisor grabbed hold of the programmer's ear and yanked on it. The programmer fell out of his seat, rubbing his paining ear.

"Could you quit doing that? You're gonna' hurt all our ears if you keep that shit up," the programmer complained.

"Sierra. Yankee. November. Echo. Romeo. Golf. Yankee."

"Alright sir, things look good on this side. We'll have that going in a few seconds."

"Thanks," he said, slamming the phone down again.

"You really shouldn't do that with a phone. It's so loud when you do that, you'll end up hurting their ears."

"James, that's the point. You have a helluva' load to learn still. Contact the NOAA's Space Environment Center. I just want to double check that this isn't some kind of mass ejection from the Sun," he said, sitting down next to him. James attached a headset to his ear and pushed a button on the side. Montgomery attacked on to his ear and quickly went to work on placing certain data feeds onto the huge monitors.

"NOAA," James said, pausing for the voice recognition software to identify the correct agency, "Correct, contact Space Environment Center."

The data stream from the first GlobalHawk came online and was quickly added to the cluster of monitors in front of them. The other two came to life instantaneously. All three showed nothing but runway, with the first beginning to tilt up as it began to take flight.

A few minutes later the KH-17's data stream began to come in. The crystal clear shots began to slowly zoom in on the west coast of North America.

"SEC is reporting nothing that could cause a major anomaly in our EI system."

"So this is it, the moment I've been waiting three years for."

"And that'd be?" James asked.

"A raise."

* * *

No contrails showed in the sky. Jorcy pushed the car beyond what he thought was possible. Every gear shift and direction change was a challenge. With a few miles left till civilization, the furious pace would end in a matter of minutes. 

He was beginning to understand why Jet drove like he did. It added a thrill to the mundane task of driving.

The top of the mountain offered a view of the land below, its dull color of urban sprawl giving a feeling of hope. Hope of returning to a normal life.

Entering in the first left turn, his mouth was open with his tongue peeking through his lips during his highest levels of concentration. The right turn ahead of him tested the ferocity of not only his abilities but the car's abilities as well. The onboard traction "brain" adjusted the power sent to each wheel according to the traction setting the switch was in. "3" was used when the car needed to be glued to the road, like now.

Off the throttle, shifting down, off the clutch, lurching forward, back on the clutch, up a gear and mashing the throttle to the floor. It was like watching a computer programmed to do a certain task over and over as he and the car came down the side of the mountain.

Jorcy's ears adjusted to the altitude, popping as they always did when altitude change rapidly occurred. Reaching the bottom of the mountain, relief came when he realized he was at the last sequence of corners. To the left, a quick switchback was conquered as smooth as could be. The right that followed soon after succumbed to the athleticism of both car and driver fused together.

The left corner threw a kink in that Jorcy unexpectedly went through too fast. Overcorrecting, the car spun as it responded to its driver's commands. Off onto a dirt turnoff, the car came to rest a few feet away from a steep drop into a river close below.

"Close," he laughed off the fear, "Close but no crash."

A deep breath and the drive home became normal.

"Normal," he mocked, "Nothing's normal."

* * *

The NRO control room was a flurry of activity. Screens had changed from displaying data to the live stream being down-linked. A handful of engineers worked the massive room as best they could. 

"Target is stopped right along the coast line. Uh, not sure if it's going to be moving again like when it stopped nearly half an hour ago."

"It's been 76 minutes since original EI signal acquisition of target being tracked. Path of target is currently being layered with a map we have of the area. Three GlobalHawks were launched in response to get a three-dimensional image of the object. We've also been granted control of several KH-17's in geostationary orbit that'll be monitoring the target for the next 72 hours. They're watching on visible and infrared. We've also got them running their synthetic-aperture-radar cross scans at maximum power," Montgomery said to one of the higher-ranking generals watching.

"This transfer rate coming from it isn't even on the charts at all. It's beyond anything within civilian or military applications. I'd even say with a good deal of certainty that it's well beyond even our server's capacities at their highest rates of data transfer," James added, "Might I even press further and make the claim that whatever this is, it's at least 200, maybe 300 years ahead of our technology."

Bursting through the door, a technician ran with a single sheet of paper twice his size behind him.

"Got it!" he yelled, panic gripping his voice, "We've found its path!"

A flurry of activity ensued as everyone attempted to clear the closest table of all things on it. Montgomery's flustered surprise quickly turned to annoyance.

"Everyone!!! Stop!" he screeched. All those around him did as he demanded. The chaos of reorganization hadn't put a dent in the number of items on the table. He moved his arm across the table, sending its contents over the edge and crashing to the floor. The table was clean.

All three looked at him.

"You'd've done the same thing," he said, returning their glares. The technician laid the paper out on the table, its glossy finish reflecting light from within the room.

"If you look at this," the technician said pointing at the huge photo he had brought in, "You'll see that the data stream is acquired well within the desert and travels all the way to Seal Beach. We've found that it arrived at a house."

The blue streak followed a winding path from the desert to the coast. Another photo next to the map showed a grey car. Another showed the same car parked in front of the house.

"Christ. What is this thing? I mean, it looks like a car, but it also looks like a spaceship. Can we see if it's got license plates or something? Can we do that from 25,000 miles up?"

"We'll go in even further. We can take a photo with the KH-17 and count the number of pimples on a person if we needed to," the general said. He stood up from his bent over stance to light a cigar.

"Montgomery," he grunted.

"Yes sir?"

"I want to know the exact number of pimples on whoever this is, you got it? All information on this individual needs to be gathered within the next 3 hours. I'm going to give out a direct order to NRO's head offices to keep these three 17's on this house. If our target goes outside eating a sandwich, I want to know whether the target used French's mustard or Dijon. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" he firmly answered.

"Speaking of Dijon mustard, I'm going to go have lunch. Anything I can get you?"

"Something with a lot of caffeine," James said, "It's going to be a long day."

"You can say that again," Montgomery scoffed.

* * *

"Seal Beach?" Jorcy said, walking up to the door of the house, "Not far from Long Beach." 

The key gripped firmly in his hand, he walked up to the door.

"Here goes nothing," he said, sliding it into the lock.

* * *

**There you have it.**

**Thanks to INS for helping beta.**


	3. Consume

* * *

**Invisible **

**Chapter 2**

**Consume**

* * *

Sound asleep on the only piece of furniture in the house: the couch.

A simple two-story beach house was the last of the surprises left over from Jet. The bottom floor was spacious, while the top story consisted of only two rooms. The key that had opened every lock in the house couldn't open the two rooms. After a painfully failed attempt at kicking either door down, they were left to remain locked.

The ocean was only a brisk run away from the backdoor.

The formerly tired Jorcy was currently enjoying the couch. Red and comfy, it sent him to sleep in a matter of minutes. His phone slipped from his pocket, crashing loudly into the hardwood flooring. It was overtaken by a snore louder than the crash. It's volume crescendo upwards, finally giving in with a slight snort.

An opening of one eye, slowly followed by the other. A quick realization that he was on the couch led to him rising from his sleep. The first decent sleep in nearly a week left him feeling refreshed.

"Man," he said to the empty room, "I need something in here other than a couch."

He let himself fall back onto the couch. He inhaled deeply, the stinging of salt-charged air on the nostrils. Rising once again, he continued upward. Now standing, the investigation began. Walking up to a window, he took in the dark gray of the ocean at early morning. Clouds above blocked the sun.

"It took me a whole day to realize that there's an ocean behind my house."

Without hesitation, he found his way to the back door. Opening it quickly, he ran as fast as he could towards the ocean. The morning air was cold once again, heavy with the ocean's presence. As impulsively as he began running towards the ocean, the leap he made next even surprised him.

A splash and he was under, coming up quickly for breath. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was painful, but numbing at the same time.

"Cold!" he said with surprise, "Very cold!"

He floated there for a few seconds, before frantically swimming the short distance back to shore.

"Shit!" he shivered.

Half a minute stretched out in cold water. He looked back at the house, the back door wide open. A runner went by, slowly eyeing Jorcy and his wet clothes.

"The tide," he said, aimlessly pointing back at the ocean, "Snuck up on me."

He then put his full attention to the fact that wet clothes made everything cold. He began a slow walk back to the house. His left arm twitched to its full length, his hand grasped around an invisible object. He quick hit from his other arm took care of the locked muscles, relaxing them slowly. His arm fell to a resting position.

He realized what it meant to him. A few moments of visualizing in the mind and the fleeting memory went back into the depths. It never fully retreated.

Upon regaining himself, he continued his walk.

"I need something in there other than a couch."

* * *

"It's weird," James remarked to a general across the table, "Sir, if you open up the file you'll see what we've gathered on our target in the past 17 hours since original data stream acquisition."

The general flipped through the pages. Several important people sat at the table, waiting to hear the report.

"Page seven," Montgomery huffed. He placed his hand at the top of his forehead and dragged it slowly down to his chin, distorting his face. It didn't rub the fatigue off of him. He looked around for any extra file booklets he could find. Put together in 20 minutes, it wasn't the best, but it beat having no information. He turned quickly to page seven.

"Jorcy Black," he read aloud, "137 Beach Ave, Seal Beach, California. The property was originally purchased by a one Jet Black. At the age of 13, Jorcy's parents turned up missing and all legal parenting was turned over to Jet Black until Jorcy reached the age of 18."

"Will Jet Black become a factor we have to take into account?" the general asked quietly.

"No, he's deceased as of July 3rd. Car fire. They found his car out in the middle of the Angeles National Forest smoldering. The fire burned so intensely, all that could be identified of him was a belt buckle he had had specific ownership of. Poor sap, he drove a racecar only to be killed later in life in a normal car."

A few chuckles echoed through the tension.

"So what have we got on this Jorcy Black?"

"Well," Montgomery cleared his throat, "Nothing. Literally nothing. He hasn't broken any laws. Well, hasn't been _caught_ breaking any laws. We did just technically catch him breaking the speed limit along the route he took. We were able to figure he was at one point traveling in his "car" up to 190mph at times. Other than that, he's just the adopted kid of some eccentric racecar driver…who happens to be dead."

"So we're dealing with someone that we obviously can't just pull over," the general said, looking over an aerial photo.

"Possibly," Montgomery asserted, "So I'd like to create a task force so that we could further investigate this incident, and also ask for permission to begin an investigation of Mr. Jorcy Black if allowed."

"What?" the general scoffed, "What's his "allowed" you speak of? Do you think we need a federal warrant from some judge to begin?"

"Well, I don't know. Cut me some slack, I've only been here for a few weeks."

"In the coming years you'll learn that all a warrant will do is make your "soft" investigation public. That's why we never ask for any warrants. Montgomery, there's a saying we go by in this division, "Whatever the government wants, it gets and is not questioned." Are you trying to question the authority of this division of government?"

"If you think I'm trying to jeopardize an operation then you are sorely mistaken. I'm merely questioning the idea that we don't need a warrant. First off, it's illegal," he pressed, counting on his fingers, "Secondly, if something leaks out, it's my ass, not yours. Thirdly, if my ass is gone, I'm not some kind of guy who'll keep his trap shut about being "fired suddenly". So if you'd like to go ahead and call me out about questioning, you might as well be asking yourself."

"That's not exactly the way to talk to a general you're trying to get to authorize a specialized task force for you."

"And you haven't exactly been helping me cool it either," Montgomery snapped back.

"Montgomery! Just shad'up!" James yelled, "God, Jesus and everyone in between them! You're both acting like a bunch of pretentious stuck-up you-know-whats! We're here to create a task force, not bitch like…bitchy people! Gosh, are both of you idiots so high on your own power that you can't agree on something!"

"Calm down James," Montgomery coolly murmured, "Don't flip out over us flipping out."

"Yeah, this is how government is run," the general chimed in.

"Don't mind James, he's even newer than me."

"No, I was just put into this position right out instead of having to work my way up through the NRO."

"And why was that?" the general asked.

"My Dad works here."

"Can we please get back on subject here, we're trying to make a task force, not have a get-to-know-you party, okay?"

One of the many other persons seated at the table coughed, bringing the attention back to the fact that there were more than three people in the room.

"Oh, sorry everyone," Montgomery said, standing, "But in all seriousness, this is something that could grow well out of hand."

"As it already hasn't. Who says that this Jorcy Black isn't planning to wreck our internet systems in this country, and possibly this continent."

"Sir," James interrupted, "We haven't a clue."

"This is exactly why I'd like to go forward with this "soft" investigation. Now, I have a few requests."

"And they would be?" another voice asked.

"Well, if you'd let me finish," Montgomery blasted, "I'd like a full team of agents to work with me. We're going to need to infiltrate this guy's place, and I want to make sure I've got the people I need. I'm going to need some specialized snooping equipment from the NRO. We've got to figure out what this guy is up to before we end up finding every electronic device across the nation has been rendered useless."

"Oh, so you suspect him of building an electro-magnetic-pulse device?"

"We're not very sure of him building one," James cut in, "If everyone could turn to page 127, we have a photo of his home taken by one of our KH-17's, we've kept the SR-71 airborne and have superimposed a high-resolution photo taken by the EI onboard with it.

"As you can see the blue squiggles, which represent the high power data stream, never leave the house except for one instance where it moves out towards the ocean and then back into the house. Shortly after re-entering the home, the SR-71 had to land back at Edwards to refuel and is currently back in the air collecting all the data we can."

"So how are you so sure that he isn't building an EMP?" a highly-ranked official asked.

"In high-resolution video one of our KH-17's took, when the data stream exits the home, it emanates from wherever he walks while outside. Yes, we've identified that it was in fact him and on the back of your file's we have a DVD of the mentioned footage. So, gentleman, what'll it be?"

Everyone sitting in the room looked around to each other. The decision they were about to make could very well save the country from an unknown threat, or crack open the largest scandal of it's kind.

The answer was unanimous.

* * *

The digimon had spent days walking through the forest. Encountering nothing of interest, it had spent the better part of its journey reflecting on what it had done. Although disturbed by its actions, it knew that it's only choice was to follow the path destiny had laid out for it.

It silently questioned itself and the motives it followed. For a moment, it considered abandoning its agenda, but quickly realized everything was unavoidable.

The sun began to bathe the digimon as it approached the end of the forest. It looked out through the last of the trees at the green landscape it had traveled to. The village that lay in front of it was the next step in its plans.

"Consume," it whispered as it walked forward, "Consume."

It found its way to a stone path and followed it. A sign, not much taller than it was hung in the digimon's path.

_"Primary Village"_

With one swing, it smashed the sign into a mass of splinters.

"Consume."

* * *

**There you have it. Remember, I don't own anything that's not mine.**


	4. Focal Point

* * *

**Invisible**

**Chapter 3**

**Focal Point**

* * *

"Man," Jorcy huffed, "That was quick."

Several hours had gone into unpacking and building the furniture. A table, a chair that reclined and a desk for his computer and laptop. The desk had shelves that contained his DVD's, CD's and books. He also purchased a large flat-screen TV and had hung it up on the wall opposite of the comfy red couch. That was all he would need for the next week. Then he could begin the second round of furniture shopping.

"Food," he cried out, walking towards the kitchen. It was decent sized and had a state of the art stove, dishwasher and refrigerator. The cabinets along the wall were state of the old and had to be opened by hand. A large window afforded a view of the never-ending ocean to the west.

The burners clicked on and a blue flame of natural gas burst into the air. Small in size, big in heat, a cast-iron skillet was lifted with a grunt and set down with a deep thud. Bread, with butter spread on one side was added to the skillet. Sliced cheese was removed from the refrigerator and unwrapped in a quick and efficient manner.

Flipped over, the butter sizzled against the blazing surface of cast-iron. Cheese was added and eventually both slices of bread were flipped onto each other, cheese melting in the middle. Once brown and crispy on either side, it was removed and added onto a plate. He found the ketchup bottle in the refrigerator. He sat down, licking his lips.

The phone rang.

"Oh, damn it all to hell!" he yelled, standing up to answer the phone, "Hello?" he hastily greeted. It was one of his friends from high school. The conversation started with condolences, and then quickly turned to an invitation to attend a fishing trip two days from then. Jorcy gladly accepted. The conversation turned into good-byes, and he placed the phone back in its receiver.

Lunch was finally served.

* * *

"Oooooooooooooh! I'm a delivery man yes I will, I sure will deliver your bills! I'm a delivery man and yes I can, on time anywhere, even Japan!" the delivery man sang, "Ooooooooooooh! I'm a delivery man and yes I shall, I'll deliver a puppy right now! I'm a delivery man and yes I can, on time anywhere, even Iceland!" 

He paused.

"Iceland doesn't really work that well. Oh well, what the hell," he said, looking over his delivery sheet, "Hmmmmm. 137 Beach Ave, Seal Beach. That's coming up close!" he yelled. Realizing he was a few houses down, he slammed on his brakes as hard as possible. Tires yelled in frustration and the van came to a clunking stop, the back wheels nearly lifting off of the ground.

Everything stayed in the back, except every box with the word "Fragile" on it. Those fell to the floor in violent fashion.

"We've got one," the woman said, "Delivery truck, and it pulled up in a very peculiar fashion. I suggest we get a team out there right now."

"Copy that," a man said.

The monitoring truck had been set-up across the street from 137 Beach Ave in the city of Seal Beach. Three persons were assigned to monitor, with two operating while one slept, allowing for all three to fatigue slower than usual.

The strike team was in a van similar to the delivery van that had just pulled up. They burst out of the van and ran silently towards their target.

The delivery man whistled the tune he had been singing as he searched for the parcel to be delivered. The van shook as the first member of the strike force entered it, and he took notice.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph and everyone in between!" the delivery man yelled.

"Get on the floor!" two of the strike force yelled, rifles aiming their laser pointers at the man's heart, "Get on the floor!" they demanded again. The van began to fill with members of the strike team.

"I'm trying!" the delivery man yelled, "I'm scared stiff! I can't move!"

"Someone, knock his ass down!" the captain of the team yelled.

"I'll knock his ass down!" a trainee yelled. Into a full sprint he went.

"Oh!" the whole team recoiled when shoulder met face.

The delivery man was down.

"Oh for chrissakes William!" the captain yelled, "Be more gentle next time!"

"Sorry sir!" William yelled.

"Why are we yelling?!?" One of the men asked.

"Hell'if'I'know!" the captain yelled, walking over to the delivery man and kneeling. The delivery man was in a considerable amount of pain, "Are you okay?" he looked at the delivery man's name badge, "Lewis?"

"I'm not okay!" Lewis yelled, "What the hell were all of you thinking! Nevermind that, who the hell are you guys?"

"I'm Captain Bloomquist of the NRO, but that's not important right now. We have an offer to make you. Do you work for this Jorcy Black?"

"No!" he savagely yelled, clutching his collarbone.

"Did you break it?"

"I think so."

The captain took his gloves off and reached for Lewis's left collarbone. He felt a small bump as he slid his hand across it.

"Nice work William! You broke this man's collarbone!"

"I'm sorry!" he yelled.

"No, I want you to walk over here, get down on your knees and apologize to this man, right now!"

William trotted over, went down onto his knees and spoke.

"I deeply regret tackling you hard enough to break your collarbone!" he yelled.

"Good," Bloomquist smiled. That smile was instantly replaced with a frown and a hand backhanding William's chest, "Now get your ass back with the rest of the force!"

William stood and walked back all five feet.

"Look, Mr. Lewis we are deeply sorry, but we're going to have to ask you to do a few things for us. You see, we're doing an investigation on Mr. Jorcy Black, and we need some inside information, as in inside his house. Now we've already got all the equipment ready, all we need you to do is say yes."

"Why should I?" Lewis asked.

"Lewis, were you born in this country?"

"Yeah."

"Do you love your country?"

"Yeah."

"Would you want your country to wither away and die?"

"Not really."

"Are you wiling to fight for your country?"

"Well, problem is what kind of fighting are we talking about here? You see, I'm a conscientious non-objector who isn't exactly prepared to go to war. I mean, if you give me a few weeks to think about it, I'm sure I'll warm up to the idea, but if I'm to go to war immediately, then I'd have to say "No". Plus, look at me; I'm in my mind 40's and still waiting for a mid-life crisis. And, on top of that, I have a broken collarbone!"

Bloomquist rolled his eyes, "Pacifist or not, what would it take to get you to help your country in a manner such as putting on a pair of glasses with some classified technology in them?"

"Oh, now we're talking eh? So what, I get to be like a superspy or something?"

"No," Bloomquist muttered quietly.

"So I'm gonna' be like some kind of secret agent man!"

"No," Bloomquist muttered louder.

"There's a man who leads a life of danger, to everyone he meets he stays a stranger!" he broke out into song.

"Hey, I know that song!" one of the strike force members said. Everyone turned to look at him, "So?"

"Hey!" Lewis yelled, having the attention brought back onto him, "How about I don't have to pay taxes for the rest of my life?"

No one responded.

"Okay. No taxes for the next 10 years? Five? The next year possibly?"

Bloomquist pulled out his reserve handgun, locked it back and quickly pressed it against Lewis's forehead.

"Heh, or maybe that," he chuckled nervously.

* * *

The immediate time after lunch was spent on the couch, watching TV while snoozing off. It was a combination of the lunch, warm jacket he was wearing and the sheer terror of boring shows. He also had problems sleeping since the fateful day in early July. Every time he slept it would bring up dreams so realistic, they drove him from sleep. 

He tried his hardest as he began to nod, but he could not resist the need to sleep any longer. His head slipped down and he fell deeply into sleep.

A long trip through his mind and he was back where he always went in those dreams. The white void he had been to so much, but this time it was not filled with the usual cries of guilt. It was not filled with the sights that continued to haunt him from that day. It was terribly quiet, and terribly empty.

Fully aware he was dreaming, he allowed his curiosity to take over. He turned, and there he stood. The BlackWarGreymon looked on with crossed arms. He stood next to a Shelby Mustang, red with white racing stripes.

"No," he quietly squeaked.

"Yes," the BlackWarGreymon thundered into the void, "You may be dreaming, but dreams are the ultimate reflection of reality and are an insight into your mind and subconscious life. So, what do you think all of this is here for?"

"I don't know Jet. I mean, you're dead," he said, approaching him, "But can I get just one more?"

"It'll be the last as your subconscious memory is about to run out," Jet said, distorting as he shifted back to his human form. Arms outstretched, Jorcy covered the short distance as quick as ever. The impact knocked both of them to the "floor", with a gasp coming from Jet.

"If you're going to hug me, don't try and tackle me to the floor!" Jet said, with a slight chuckle.

"Sorry, it's just---"

"I know Jorcy, you miss me. I'd like to think you're not the only one."

"I'm not."

"I'm happy to hear that," he smirked slightly, "So, what do you think all of this is here for?"

"Well," Jorcy spoke while thinking, "Me, You and you're car I had to burn. It's obviously a very simple matter whatever it is as this set-up reminds me highly of minimalism."

"The boy wonder learns!"

"Yeah, I did. It's a matter between you, me and the car for some reason."

"Bingo. But, I forgot to add a fourth object to the equation," he said, walking over to the Shelby. He opened the door and grabbed whatever was on the driver's seat. With his typical precision, he threw it to Jorcy. It was a difficult catch because it was such a long and thin object.

"It's your belt buckle," he said, the mind putting it all together.

"Yup," Jet rolled the window down and closed the door. He pulled a match out of the air delicately and scraped it across his chin. It lit instantly and he threw it into the car. Slowly walking away, the inside of the car detonated. Fire exploded out of the open window. A thick, black smoke poured off of the car and into the white "sky".

"Guilt is a funny thing," Jet said, "Of all the human emotions; it is one of the most powerful. It can drive the hardest of men to tears. Guilt requires the acknowledgment of one's past and possible serious mistakes made during said past. If ignored, it will grow. Once confronted, it will flee for all of time."

Jorcy stood there, watching the flames begin to lick above the Shelby's roof. His eyes darted away, the memory of following Jet's instructions on how to set his car ablaze returning to him.

"Jorcy," Jet quietly called, "Are you getting it yet?"

"No," he replied firmly.

"My older brother once told me a saying that I had abided by all my life. I'm now going to pass it along to you to remember and tell your…kid, or kid you become a legal guardian for if you end up in my situation in regards to my care for you," he said. A quick clearing of his throat and he began.

" 'Your past is exactly what it is: your past.' "

Clarity smacked Jorcy across the face.

"I know you still feel guilty and possibly even responsible for my death, but let me remind you that fate is something that neither you nor I can escape. You have been walking around since the day you fired off two rounds into my chest. Gruesome and something worthy of carrying around for life, but the instant you torched my car should have been the point of release."

"It's a little hard to get over it," Jorcy said, mentally pained.

"Regardless of how hard my death has become, you have to go past it. Come to at least some point of closure for the sake of myself. Do you think I find it comfortable that you walk around letting depression bottle up in you? Jorcy, there's a reason why they say there is a light at the end of every tunnel, and it's not Zoloft knocking at the door either."

They both had a laugh.

"It's hard, but I'm on the verge of coming to grips with it."

"No you're not," Jet chuckled, "You're in no position to hold my death as something you personally committed. Accidents are called accidents for a reason."

"I guess."

"No, I know. My time is up Jorcy. Take heed of my final words to you. It'll take time after this, but I know there is something on the way that will help speed the process along."

"I can only hope so."

"I know it will. Jorcy, I know you better than you know yourself."

"Really?"

"Yup," Jet nodded his head, slowly fading away, "It's all in your programming."

"My programming?" he asked loudly, "What's that suppose to mean?" he pursued Jet as he faded away, "I'm not programming Jet, I'm a human turned shifter! What's that comment about programming all about?"

Jet disappeared, as did the answer. Jorcy looked around, now frustrated about his last comments.

"Well," he rolled his eyes, "I guess this is the part where I wake up."

As he came out of his deep sleep, he found himself half on the couch and half on the floor. A most uncomfortable position. On the table in front of him lay the belt he had been holding. Mystified, he inspected it.

"What the…"

"Delivery!" Lewis called as he walked up to the door, favoring his left shoulder while holding the delivery to Jorcy.

"Coming!" he yelled, walking to the door. A swift twist and he opened it to reveal Lewis. Now clad in glasses that seemed to be more or less goggles. Embedded in them were pinhole cameras and microphones even smaller than the cameras. They recorded their data to a micro hard-drive. Transmitting a wireless signal would result in loss of picture quality. A direct feed to the hard-drive allowed for near HD quality video and pictures of even better resolution.

He listened to the micro transmitter they had placed in his ear as Bloomquist barked orders over it.

"Delivery for a Mr. Jorcy Black," he said, holding up a box. Lewis listening intently to his instructions.

"That'd be me," he answered.

"If I could just get you to sign in the marked places please," he said, pulling a thick delivery sheet out. Jorcy took it nonchalantly and began to sign.

"Where do you want me to put it," Lewis continued, attempting to enter into Jorcy's home like the plan had stated.

"Oh uh, just place it over on the table."

With only one table in the room, Lewis let his suspicion guide his questions.

"Just move in?"

"Yeah, yesterday. Part of an inheritance I…inherited. Along with the car. Furniture, well, I had to buy it."

Lewis continued to look around the room and walked up to the bookcase. Looking them over, several caught his eye.

"I see you read, eh?"

"When I have time," Jorcy said, beginning to wonder how many pages he was going to have to add his signature to.

A copy of the "Holy Bible" sat between "_The Anarchist Cookbook_ by William Powell" and "_The Gay Science_ by Friedrich Nietzsche"

"Nice arrangement," Lewis said loudly. Bloomquist wanted him to press into Jorcy's life even further than intruding into his home.

"The books?" Jorcy asked, without even looking up, "I figured it'd be one of the greatest ironies of my life to sandwich the Bible between those two books. One laying down the plans to destroy authority, the other making the great claim concerning the death of God."

"Do you believe in it?"

"What?"

"The death of God."

"Yes," Jorcy said, still adding his signature, "But only as Nietzsche meant it. So many people nowadays think it literally meant "God has died", but if only they took the time to read the paragraph around it, they would realize that not only did God die, but we are the ones who killed him.

"Nietzsche made his claim based on the fact that at the time, society was becoming so much more secular, that God seemed to have taken a back seat. He also realized that we'd have to eventually realize that truth is a purely perspective based idea, therefore killing God in the equation. Now, almost half a century later, his claim is irrelevant and taken out of context by non-believers everywhere."

"Wow," Lewis showing surprise, "What an answer to such a simple question."

Jorcy finished the last page, "Nothing in life is simple, and mine has been no exception."

"Thanks you," Lewis said, taking the delivery pad, "Have a nice day."

"You too sir," Jorcy said, shutting the door behind Lewis. He walked into his truck where the strike force team was waiting.

* * *

As he cut through the taping, the box opened to reveal a key with a tag attached to it. Jorcy carefully picked it up, the tag reading "Attic".

He looked up the stairs and knew where he was headed. Something had been left in there for him, and it was now time for him to see it. The slow walk up the stairs took an eternity. Now on the second level, a nearly vertical staircase led to an awkwardly placed door. With a trembling hand, he inserted the key and twisted. The door slowly opened. The smell and weight of stale air crashed into his senses.

He made his way up the last step and was in the room. A dull light came through a dust stained window. Looking for a light switch took a considerable amount of time, and once found he hesitated. There were two switches and they looked nastily rusted, but he tried one anyhow. Sparks flew and he quickly flipped it back down. He then tired the other, and light filled the room from an overhead bulb. The contents took his breath away.

Posters were strewn across the wall of Jet; in full racing gear in front of what Jorcy assumed was the car he had raced in for his few yet successful years. One had him sitting in the cockpit of the car, talking presumably about the performance of the car to an engineer. There was a large photo on the wall of him having just exited his car, still clad in helmet and all. The photographer had captured a moment in which he was in mid-air, jumping in celebration. The other had him on a podium kissing a trophy with a clenched fist in the air. A larger one was him in a tuxedo being presented a massive trophy. On a table below the poster were three copies of the same trophy.

Jorcy walked over and brushed the dust off of the left one. There was an engraving, and it read "2004 World Driver Champion". He did the same to the middle one and it read "2005 World Driver Champion". The next had "2006 World River Champion".

Most certainly something to jump for joy about.

On a shelf next to the table, there were various odds and ends. A steering wheel, springs and other components from what Jorcy recognized as Jet's car. A large racing tire was in a corner of the room. A small table in the middle of the room had a special piece on it.

Jet's metallic black racing helmet. It was facing out the window, gazing forever in whatever manner it wanted to.

Jorcy finally understood he was standing in Jet's trophy room. It was something he had talked about, but never shown anyone. A level of closure made his stomach feel like it dropped out of him in surprise. He was finally at ease and the responsibility for the incidents lifted off of him. He smiled, knowing that he should've expected something like this from Jet.

He left the room with a little more bounce in his step.

* * *

**I don't own Digimon, cars or manufacturers of the cars in this story. There's a disclaimer fair and square.**

**I've got a new version of TSP ready to be debuted. Any idea if I can go ahead and repost it as it's own story independently from the original TSP?**


	5. Actions and Words

* * *

**Invisible**

**Chapter 4**

**Actions and Words**

* * *

The morning crowd mingled in the café. Digimon from all around made a morning pilgrimage to the café. With the "Best breakfast in the entire Digital World! Guaranteed!" as it's offer, no one could resist, especially when the claim was delivered fresh and hot. "Carefree" was a word on everyone's mind that morning. 

Deciding it best to enter in a manner in which he could gather all the attention, a swift punch blew the double doors of the café's entrance across the room, thundering into the wall on the other side of the cafe. Shards of glass tore the wall to pieces, and the metal twisted from the force of the fist's impact. His goal had been achieved. Digimon turned with a certain sense of confusion, followed by the perfect clarity of the situation confirmed by wide-eyed looks of fear and the overbearing sound of silence.

"There is no reason to panic," the digimon spoke, "You are all about to be witnesses to the most astounding act you will ever see in your lives. From the moment I was born, I knew this moment was inevitable. It's not easy to live with such a burden like mine, but I am here for a special reason. At this very moment, history will now be changed."

He walked up to the closest digimon he stood near: an Upamon who had been ignoring him, completely preoccupied by eating. The initial thought of a punch was denied, seeing a kick as giving him a better position at blocking those who might possibly try and stop him from what will be the early round of his rampage. With a flick of the wrist, he speared it with his armor, allowing for a slow and painful death.

An Agumon soared over the tables and at the digimon. With claw reared back, he delivered a swift blow to the digimon. Hardly flinching, the digimon returned the favor and sent the Agumon sailing into and through a wall. Several digimon now took on the task of taking on the murderer. The murderer simply blocked all of their attacks with one arm, while reaching over to a cup of coffee on a table next to him. He quietly sipped it as he continued his blocking.

"Honorable?" he asked, "Indeed. But necessary?" With one swing, he took out his attackers.

"Hardly" he sighed, looking at all the raw data he could possibly dream of trembling before him. His vicious streak tore through rational thought. He realized that he was there to send a message to the Sovereigns of the Digital World.

He began a merciless slaughter of everyone in the diner. He'd corner a patron and first start by severing all possible means of escape. This included tendons (fire shooting up and down one's bones), ligaments (the sudden stomach dropping feeling of ball and socket joints detaching completely), joints (the lose of mobility permanently as bones warped out of shape while still within the limb) and possibly even arms and legs themselves (a sudden cool breeze that could not be attributed to one's fly's being open).

One punch he delivered was so forceful it broke a bone and forced it to break through the skin of the victim. A Gabumon clung to a leg of a table, bolted into the ground. Upon finding him, the digimon grabbed his legs and pulled with all his might. So fearful for its life, the Gabumon clung to the table leg so hard, both shoulders were instantly dislocated. No longer able to fight the involuntary spasms as his arm socket's rubbed against his shoulder muscles, he gave up.

With a quick stab, he scored another victory by virtue of puncturing their lungs. The clam flood of fluid from the abdominal cavity was the only sign of trouble as they convulsed on the ground.

As he stood over a Botamon he paused. Then, lifting his foot quickly, he brought it down.

"Killing their young like it was nothing new."

* * *

After hardly sleeping that night, the alarm in the other room exploded with sound. Four in the morning and he was already dressed. Ready for the day full of fishing that lay ahead. With a half an hour till his friend arrived, he waited on the couch watching the TV. The constant droning of voices mixed with the dancing of light on the wall sent his alertness packing. He slipped into the realm between remaining awake and falling asleep. The time warp that is dozing help to fast forward through that half hour, and the loud ring of the doorbell startled him from his relaxation. 

"Jorcy!" someone pounded on the door, "Get your lazy ass up, or you're going to make us late!"

"I'm coming you twat!" he yelled back, turning the TV off. Out of the darkness came a chair, and Jorcy collided with it in slapstick fashion, "Oh...Jesus!"

"What the hell are you doing in there man?!? That stuff just ain't right."

"I'm preparing to kick your ass!" Jorcy yelled, stumbling to his feet. Opening the door, there was Ian. Slightly stocky, but tall enough so that it fit him well. Dressed warmly and bearing a grin that invited all.

"You were saying?"

"Oh nothing. Just gonna' kick your ass!"

"In your dreams Jorcy-boy," Ian smirked.

"Ooooo! You play football for a university! You're just all big and bad now, aren't yah?" he said, walking to Ian's car.

"Hey! Why are you walking to my car?"

"Because I don't feel like driving."

"And neither do I, especially when you have a new car I need to have a peek and a ride in."

"Bull!" Jorcy yelled, "Aren't I your guest?"

"Oh damnit!" Ian yelled, "Give me points for trying though," he said opening his car's door.

"I'd give it about nine points," Jorcy said, sitting in the front seat, "It's nice to be a passenger every now and then."

"Says you," Ian grunted, starting the car and backing it out of the driveway, "Not to bring up Jet or anything, but doesn't he have any cars you can drive other than that new one?"

"Yeah, they're all in a private garage that I don't have a key to."

"Fiddlesticks!" he yelled, hitting the steering wheel. The car jerked to the right slightly. Jorcy looked out the window, completely oblivious to the motion of the car. Just staring off into the blackness of the sky before the Sun rises, "I know he's got something in that garage!"

"Most likely."

"Ferrari?" Ian asked.

"No, he hated Ferrari with a passion."

"What, how can you hate a Ferrari?"

"Very easily," Jorcy simply replied.

"Okay, any Bentleys?"

"Nope, he didn't like Bentley."

"What? What the hell was wrong with Jet?"

"He thought Bentley was a car that you bought to have someone else drive you around in, and he's not one of those kinds of people."

"That makes sense," Ian said, drifting off into shallow thought.

"How's your dad doing?" Jorcy casually asked.

"Good, been busy lately. Being a Senator is a little bit harder than he thought, but he's doing much better than that guy who held the office before him."

"Senator? I thought he was with the House of Representatives."

"No you doofus! He's a Senator."

Ah. Hey, I got a good joke---"

"Well, spill it---"

"Maybe if you'd let me---"

"Alright, go ahead."

A moment of silence.

"Thank you," Jorcy started, "It's a "Yo' Mama'" joke. Here's how it goes: Yo mama' so fat people jog around her for exercise."

They both erupted into laughter.

"Damn Jorcy!" Ian said, laughing hard enough to cause the car to swerve slightly, "That was good, but I think I've got a better one. Yo mama' so fat her nickname is "Lardo"!"

"That was fairly lame Ian."

"Fiddlesticks! It's brilliant."

"No, this is brilliant," Jorcy paused, "Yo mama' so fat she had to go to Sea World to get baptized!"

Once again, laughter ensued.

"Yo mama' so fat she had to go to Sea World to get baptized!"

"Oh damn!" Jorcy laughed, "Ian's got jokes!"

"Yo mama' so fat she rolled over 4 quarters and it made a dollar!" Ian fired off again, "Yo mama' so fat she's got Amtrak written on her leg! Yo mama' so fat she fell in love and broke it!"

Jorcy was no longer communicating verbally. Tears from laughing so hard streamed down his cheeks and he was bent over, laughing so hard, he felt as if his lung were about to be spit out of his mouth. Witnessing this, Ian's toothy smile grew and he continued to assault Jorcy's "mama'", "Yo mama so fat that when she was born, she gave the hospital stretch marks! Alright Jorcy, I gotta' switch it up!"

Jorcy couldn't respond. The laughter went through him like the pains of a vicious disease. Ian let the final blow rip.

"Yo mama' so stupid, she failed a survey!"

Jorcy lost it. He pushed the window button down, and held it in till the window was down completely. He stuck his head out into the cold, thick air and let the vomit spew from his mouth, still quietly laughing. It cascaded onto the ground, splattering as it began to leave a trail.

Ian went into hysterical laughter, and when finished puking, Jorcy sat back into his seat, laughing audibly. The time to Long Beach seemed to fly past.

* * *

"Look, we're not asking for a warrant, we're demanding one," Montgomery snapped. The lead director of the NRO sat before them, hardly impressed. 

"I think that you boys should come back with just a little more information, just so we can be safe that this "data stream" you speak of is really emanating from a source around this young man's house."

"Sir, we've got all the confirmation we need to get a warrant of arrest! We have no clue what he's planning to do and we need to stop it now!" James blurted out.

Now see," the head of the NRO said, "That's exactly why I can't give you boys a warrant. We don't know what direction this road will lead us on. I mean, look at the evidence you're presenting," he said, picking up a paper, "Apathetic demeanor, has the Bible sandwiched between "The Anarchist Cookbook" and "The Gay Science"."

"That's a very dangerous combination sir!" Montgomery insisted.

"Look-e-here boys, if you can gather some more evidence, I'll be glad to let you two have a warrant for Mr. Jorcy Black's arrest. But until you can present said evidence, I'm afraid he's someone that this government doesn't want to waste their time on. Prove to me that he's going to be our next Bin Laden or Hussein. I'm sorry gentlemen."

"Fine," Montgomery huffed out of the room. James stood and huffed out as well.

"So now what the hell do we do?" James asked, catching up with Montgomery huffing to an elevator.

"What every good government agency no one talks about does in times like these."

* * *

**I don't own digimon or any of that other stuff I've mentioned in it, including Bentley (not a fan) and Ferrari (always a fan). Crunchy goodness.**


	6. Search

* * *

**Invisible**

**Chapter 5**

**Search**

* * *

Shortly after the break-up of the group he was the final member to join, Edan was approached by Gennai to help aid in forming a new group. Given a second chance, he accepted and became the lead correspondent of a newly formed combined agency and committee known as UNDER. He was the only Guilmon to work for UNDER, and the only one that had been partially reassembled using their biomechanical technology. A product had been hired by its manufacturer.

He sat there in the lab, wondering what could possible solve the problem of the three minute delay before "clear" began its healing process. He gazed over papers he had written.

" "Clear" as it is commonly known is a form of liquid data that, when poured or injected into an injury, can heal any severity of injury imaginable. Our mina problem has been a three minute delay, which, in rare cases such as extreme bleeding, is too long a time to help prevent the ceasing of bodily functions essential to life…"

Bored out of his mind, he remembered something he had found during his work with the original group. Pulling open a drawer in a counter, he tossed a small bag onto the surface. It was marked with a black and yellow twist-tie and had tape applied to it, on which was written:

_**Sample Powder**_

_**Found in room of Jet Black**_

_**IDENTIFY PLEASE**_

He had been meaning to test it from the day he arrived, but it had only crossed his mind at that moment. His curiosity mounted from a small statement said to him by Jorcy concerning catching Jet in the act of "snorting" it. After a little research on humans, he found a white powder-like substance known as "cocaine" that had to be "snorted" to be used. Wanting to confirm this, he found a test that involved the burning of "cocaine". He pulled out a beaker, a rig to hold the beaker and a Bunsen burner. Edan attached a gas line from the counter into the opening at the bottom of the Bunsen burner. The rig was moved into place over the burner.

He took out a small pipette and opened the bag. Placing the pipette in, he squeezed it gently with his right, real claw. He sucked up a small amount of the powder and squeezed it out in the beaker. He walked with the beaker over to a sink and added a small amount of water, holding it in his left, mechanical claw.

After a few seconds, he stopped the flow and moved back over the burner. Gently placing the beaker in the rig and turned on the burner to its highest setting. The pure blue flame howled out of it, hitting the beaker and instantly raising its temperature dramatically.

Several more minutes later, the water began to boil and the diluted powder began to clump together.

_"If the substance in question is cocaine, it will disperse throughout the water and make a noise similar to the crackling of wood."_

"Well, it's not cocaine at least," Edan said with relief. The white powder suddenly turned a deep red, "White powder turning deep red?" he ran through his mind's memory of what type of powder turned red when heated in water. It hit him like a car moving so fast, that it disintegrates as it hits a wall.

"Oh my---"

"Edan!" a loud voice came over the intercom, "Edan! Your presence is requested in the UNDER room!"

He stood there looking at the red powder, knowing full well what it meant.

* * *

The room was circular. It had only one large, heavy, metal door. Within it was his only supervisor.

"Thank you," he said to the guard outside of the room. As he walked in, the screens all around Azulongmon and Zhuqiaomon cast a soft light on them.

"Azulongmon, you rang up for me?" Edan asked

"Yes Edan, we both did," Zhuqiamon acknowledged Edan.

"Zhuqiamon tells me that you know a product of his?"

"Oh? I do?" Edan had no clue who he could possibly be referring to.

"Edan, you know of the sudden devastation taking place at this very moment?"

"No sir."

"Mass killings have suddenly returned. Although not on the scale that Ranzor had ordered, it most certainly has digimon jittery."

"No only that," the fiery phoenix continued, "but unlike Ranzor, who when killing, the data was easily found for recycling, the data is not being returned. Whoever is committing these acts is taking on a very sub-par manner of killing them by retaining the data of their victims. Not only that, but they've also taken out Invisible."

The shock on Edan's face could not be seen due to the biomechanical gear covering his eyes, but it was clear in his voice, "Invisible?"

"The very supercomputer used to take old data and recycle it into new data," the blue dragon huffed, "Edan, Zhuqiaomon and I have discussed a solution for quite some time and he has offered one."

"Yes," the red phoenix spoke again, "I'm sure you know of him, as he is a product of a deal I cut with him. A one Jorcy Black. I'm requesting that you find him and explain the nature of our situation. If he refuses to come, I want you to get him here at all costs."

"Great," Edan remarked, thinking back to the last time he had seen Jorcy, "I'll go ahead and get my belongings ready" he said, leaving the room.

* * *

"Thanks again Ian!" he yelled as the sedan drove off into the darkening skies of evening. Catching three fish meant a nice dinner for at least three nights. In his mind he went over the recipes he would want to cook them: plain tonight, breaded and battered tomorrow night, blackened Cajun style the night after next.

He reached the steps to his door when the wind shifted. He stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a distant howl. He recognized its author immediately and turned, walking back out onto his lawn. Down the street it approached with a comforting purring locked with an earsplitting buzzing. Couple that with the red blur, and Jorcy let the wrapped up fish fall to the ground.

"Ferrari," he solidly spoke. The blood red car pulled up right in front of him, slowing to a stop with all its fifty years of heritage on display. This one was one of the newest. Jorcy immediately identified it as a Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano. A rather tall man exited after turning the engine off. Glasses off, he was looking at Jorcy.

"Aren't you that kid Jet took in?"

"I guess you could call me that, why?"

"Oh, I'm Dragen. I'm a former opponent of Jet from his racing days. We eventually ended up on the same team during his championship years and when he finally retired, I won a championship and retired."

"Much like my former…caregiver."

"Hey kid, I really hate to ask you this, but I'm fairly low on gas, so would you mind me crashing for the night?"

Jorcy looked up at the sky, now noticing that the skies were darkening with storm clouds.

"Sure, give me a minute and I'll open up the garage for you."

"Oh, thanks kid," Dragen said, getting back into his car, "Jet really raised him right."

He looked over at a van as he began to place the Ferrari into reverse, and he could've sworn he had seen a camera being pulled back.

* * *

In front a screen that encompassed the size of a building's wall, Edan began to drill out his instructions to UNDER's computers.

"Search…Contacts…Flame…Species Flamedramon."

The computers burst to their full processing speed. A few seconds later, the screen changed, flashing:

**Contact "Flame" Not Found**

He sighed, knowing that one task had turned into two.

"Search…Contacts…Jorcy Black…Species: Human/Shifter."

With the speed of light on their side, the information was instantly retrieved and displayed. Now all he needed to do was look for the address on a map, rent a car, and prepare his best words to convince Jorcy to have another go.

* * *

**Onward and forward! **


	7. Returning to a Moment

* * *

**Invisible**

**Chapter 6**

**Returning to a Moment**

* * *

"Moving in?" 

"What?" Dragen asked.

"I've noticed you've brought in a few duffel bags."

Dragen was much like Jet, being of slightly athletic build and around the same age Jet would be. Unlike Jet though, he had dark hair, brown eyes, and the dark skin of his heritage.

"Heh, yeah. I use to come over and crash at Jet's place all the time in the off season. Or he'd come up and crash at my place. Once I heard about his accident, I just had to come down here. His old neighbors let me know the address you were at, and, well, here I am. I've got a little something to do for him."

"Yeah, you like fish?"

"I'll eat anything after such a long trip."

"Where do you live usually?" Jorcy asked, unwrapping the fish and lighting up his stove.

"Up north, Napa area. Wine country, I even own a winery."

"Nice. Knowing Jet's love for anything that could knock him out quickly, did he ever visit?"

"Oh yeah, all the time. There was this one time he came in and ended up getting drunk as hell. The funniest thing was watching him try and drive a golf cart. He got in it, gave me that look he gives everyone with the one eyebrow in the air, clutching a bottle of merlot and yelling, "Dragen, I'mma' gonna' drive this bitch till the end of the world!" By golly, he started, got about a couple hundred feet, was halfway over a small bridge over a river, and didn't make it to the other side. Funniest thing I ever saw in my life, till I realized he was in need of some serious help. One of the reasons I'm down here was that he told me he wanted one of his famous "James Bond" martinis thrown into the ocean, glass and all."

"Heh, did he ever love those," Jorcy said, finding new release in talking, "You know what Dragen, can I confess something?"

"Shoot."

"I mean, you can take it however you want to, but…Jet didn't die in a car accident."

"Oh really now?"

"No, I accidentally killed him."

"Oh come now!" Dragen yelled, rolling his eyes and pulling a wine bottle out of a bag, "Jet told me once how attached you were to him. How you were literally like a son to him. I can understand if you still have the need for him as a father figure, but there's no need to place the blame for something that you obviously didn't have any part in. C'mon, knowing him, he wouldn't want us sitting around having a pity party; he'd want us up and about, happy for him in some sense."

"I guess."

"Want me to tell you a few stories about him in our racing days?"

"Sure, why not."

"So this one time we're staying in the same hotel, he calls up room service to deliver food to my room.

* * *

_"Are you sure I ordered a swiss turkey sandwich?"_

_"Yes sir, as long as this is room # 407."_

_"Yeah, give me just a second," Dragen said, going in to get his wallet._

_"Room service!" someone yelled._

_"Yeah, I know you're out there!"_

_"No, it's not me, it's another guy."_

_"Room service!" someone else's voice chimed in._

_"Okay, just wait a second guys," he said, going through his duffel bags for his wallet. Once found, he went back out in to the hall, "Holy!"_

_There was a cart covered in cookies, another covered in pies, one covered in sandwiches and a full wedding cake complete with groom and bride. He stood there, mouth wide open._

_"Well, what are you doing?" one of the men asked, "Catching flies?"_

* * *

Jorcy was laughing hysterically. 

"Turns out he had ordered several thousand dollars worth of room service for me. Later that season, I was able to get him back. We both took the same helicopter to the race course and he was showing me a new briefcase he had bought."

* * *

_"Yeah dude, it's made of carbon fiber. Indestructible!" Jet happily squealed._

_Without giving it much thought, Dragen grabbed the briefcase._

_"Cool stuff huh?" Jet asked with an eager look. Dragen opened the door of the helicopter and threw it out._

_"What the hell!?!"_

_"Indestructible," Dragen smiled, "Right?"_

* * *

"Later that day he walked the course and found it in the middle of a turn. He wasn't too thrilled. Then there was one day where he filled my room with frogs.

* * *

_There was a knock on the hotel room door. Looking through the eyehole, he could see an unhappy Dragen. Opening the door with his patented smartass smile, it became even bigger when he saw that Dragen's hands were holding several frogs._

_"I've just spent the last hour rounding up 12 frogs in my room."_

_Jet's smartass smile grew as he replied, "Did you find the snake?"_

* * *

"I got back at him by ordering up the worst smelling cheese I could find and snuck in and placed it in the air conditioning vent. What a time he had with that." 

"He told me once he had a strong dislike of the smell of cheese," Jorcy laughed, moving the fish to a plate.

"Well, now you know why! Those fish look mighty good."

"Yeah, caught today," Jorcy glanced towards the clock, "Seesh, well, I'm going to be heading straight to sleep after this."

"I guess I will too," he said, cutting into the fillet.

* * *

Outside, the lighting continued sporadically. With the storm having come and passed, the second immediately following it was moving it. Even stronger than the first, it put every thunderstorm in the past decade to shame. Massive amounts of lighting, torrential rain and gratuitous amount of hail. It unloaded everything it could. 

Quietly asleep on the couch, Jorcy's eyes twitched back and forth under his closed eyelids. He was back at the party, back those few months ago, back when the unexpected expectedly happened...

_He ran down the stairs, turning and shifting at the same time. Guns drawn, he was ready to fight with the bartender as soon as he crested the top. Aiming with his claws on the triggers, he was ready to unleash a hail of metallic hell. As soon as he saw the square face and broad shoulders, he pulled._

_"Even Shot!"_

_A tremendous amount of noise filled the air, as did an outrageous amount of projectiles traveling as speeds that, upon hitting the bartender, tore through him and began to turn him into spatter all over the floor. The least of his trouble's had just begun. As he turned to continue to where Ranzor would be at, the Devidramon crashed through the glass roof of the room. It landed with reckless precision._

_"Even Shot!"_

_A generous amount of smoke, fire and sickening soft impacts ran through the massive dining room. As the Devidramon fell, screaming its last, he took off. Millions upon billions of scenarios ran through his head, all of them ending with the outcome of Ranzor on the floor, ceasing to exist._

_He ran out onto the balcony where Ranzor should be cowering over in fear. Instead, red eyes peered back at him, relieved at the sight of Jorcy, terrified at the present position he was in. Jorcy immediately pulled out his guns. Knowing his energy would run out in a matter of seconds if he used them, he fought had against the Heav instinct that told him to shoot for a clean kill. The problem was Flame, as Ranzor held him at such a position, that any shot would be directly fatal to both digimon. Ranzor's claws were the only part of his body that had shifted, leaving the rest of him in his human form._

_"Looks to me like we both have a bit of a dilemma. Here I am, having drinks with the lovely Jet Black, and he decides to leave me and is promptly replaced by this Flamedramon. Now, with my claws ready to remove this inconvenience that dropped in, another shows up, this time prepared to kill me, but first he has to kill his partner in order to get through me."_

_His breathing couldn't have been any more erratic. The guns shook with anxiety. It was the scenario his mind had forgot to go through. A hostage, one of his, with two lives in his hands._

_"Ranzor, what do you think you're going to accomplish by taking me out with you?" Flame asked, his cool head showing through in the face of death._

_"Pleading for your life isn't going to help. If I'm to die here tonight, then I am not going to be the only one. If you were even the only shifter that I killed in my lifetime, then I'd consider your death to be the most fulfilling aspect of my life. So if anything, continue showing your fear…Flamedramon."_

_Flame looked as best he could up to Ranzor's eyes, "Philosophers don't fear death."_

_"Oh shut up!" Ranzor yelled, kneeing Flame in the back repeatedly. He continued until he heard the gunshot, followed by an immense wave of pressure. It snapped Ranzor back to reality._

_"So, if that had hit you in the head, you'd have killed Flame?" was all Jorcy could muster as the casing clinked on the marble floor, "Somehow, I think your genius is underestimated by so few."_

_"Listen here child. Just because you can access that immense burden that is Heav, do not think you can outsmart me in the least. You are still but a child, and frankly, children do not know how to handle situations such as this."_

_"Listen here grandpa, I can tell you one way I can handle it," Jorcy said, walking up to Ranzor slowly. He had no clue as to how he was keeping the courage to continue forward. With each step, his anxiety and determination to see that head removed from Ranzor's body forever grew, "I can pull this trigger with the slightest pressure, and then you'd have nothing to taunt me with. You've obviously proven that even if you thought you had the skills to remove Flame from life during the act of removing yours, you lack the ability that helps you follow through on threats."_

_"I'll have you know, your little Flamedramon buddy here won't be the first I've killed in front of friends."_

_"And I'll have you know, my little Flamedramon buddy here won't be the first to witness me killing a digimon who thinks he knows it all."_

_"Well, are you going to shoot me, or let me go?"_

_The tension ran through his body like a live wire. His adrenaline hadn't stopped. It continued to pour out of the glands, keeping him super sharp and ready to kill at the slightest twitch of Ranzor's claws. As the swooping noise came from behind, Ranzor immediately dropped Flame, who started to bolt to safety. Jorcy took his shot at Ranzor, who now in mid-shift to his digimon form, took a bullet to the chest. As he swung around to deal with the aggressor, he closed his eyes and fire several rounds to whoever was attempting to attack him from behind._

_That was it! The horrible nightmare was over!_

_"Yes!" he yelled, still with closed eyes. A sickening gurgle cracked through the surrounding silence. One of the two was still alive after having been shot, and they were taking in their last breaths. Jorcy knew that they might still have the energy to release one more attack, so he jumped to his feet, clutching his guns and opening his eyes, expecting the beautiful sight of a nearly dead Ranzor._

_It was even more horrifying than he imagined._

_Jet stood there, clutching where his chest use to be. All that remained was a massive hole, bleeding profusely with bits of organs hanging. He slipped to his knees, gasping for air from his now missing lungs. His claw armor was now a deep shade of red; quite a fitting color for a BlackWarGreymon. Jorcy smiled in disbelief. One nightmare over, another just beginning. Not only had he killed Ranzor, but he had killed the one and only person he considered family. Jet finally looked up at Jorcy, his eyes turning from pain to surreal realization._

_"Just…just…the exact spot…as my…brother," he said, the look in his eyes being joined by a similar smile. It was relaxing, beautiful, and something that would haunt Jorcy forever._

_"Jet," was all he could say as he fell to the ground._

_"Don't worry," he softly said, "Death is nothing."_

_He kept his eyes on Jorcy until they closed. Hi final breath was quick and shallow. Jorcy stood up, and looked back towards Ranzor. He was holding one of Jorcy's guns in his thick claws. Seeing no reason, Jorcy walked up to Ranzor._

_"Are you going to shoot me, or let me go?"_

_"My words, not yours" Ranzor's digimon form smirked._

_Jorcy walked up and grabbed the barrel of the gun, "C'mon!" he cried, pulling the barrel to his forehead, "Pull the damn trigger already! Everything's been taken away from me all because of you! So why not just take my life too! Pull that goddamn trigger!"_

_"Did I make the decisions for you?" he asked simply. It hit Jorcy like a train, "I didn't think so. You made your own choices. So everything here is a consequence of yourself, not me. So, now that you've had a little lesson in life, let's have one in death."_

_"I hate to say it, but you're completely right," Jorcy said, a tear rolling down his cheek._

_"I know I am. Strange how you're now on the other side or your own weaponry, isn't it? What does it feel like?"_

_"I don't know," Trenzor said, placing the barrel of his ultrarifle against Ranzor's head, "How about you tell me?"_

_Ranzor's shocked eyes locked on Trenzor. He didn't hesitate._

_The loud crack echoed through downtown once again._

_Jorcy didn't even blink as Ranzor's head splashed across his face..._

The thunder outside brought him out of sleep. He tried to shake the dream he had just gone through. It seemed that for whatever reason, Jet's death wouldn't leave him. Afraid to fall back asleep, he lay there looking out the window towards the ocean. Lightning danced across the sky.

* * *

** The scene of Jet's death is different because it is from the re-write of The Silent Project. Special thanks goes to Narissa who's notes have helped me out a great deal.**

**P.S. Merry Christmas! **


	8. Conflict at the Front Door

* * *

**Invisible**

**Chapter 7**

**Conflict at the Front Door**

* * *

The storm outside continued with a ferocity never seen. Dragen's snoring became a bit of a problem when Jorcy finally decided to try and return to sleep. His fear of dreaming further things kept him from falling in a deep enough into sleep to dream. He swore he heard a roaring noise outside. A ring of his doorbell confirmed his suspicion. As he stood up, Dragen lazily awoke. 

"Who the hell could that be?" he asked.

Jorcy turned the porch light on and went up on his tiptoes, attempting to look through the frosted glass. He couldn't make out a thing. Opening the door very cautiously, he spotted the two white lights representing Edan's eyes grow small as he focused on Jorcy. The part-biomechanical Guilmon's search had ended.

"Jorcy."

"Edan," he said frantically. Jorcy's heart began to pound about wildly, "What…what are you doing here?"

"Jorcy, I'm going to cut straight to the chase. We need you back in the Digital World."

"Heh," Jorcy smiled, closing the door, "Surprisingly, I don't need any of you."

With the door shut, he slowly walked back to the living room and dropped back onto the couch. He was sure he'd wake up form this dream as well.

"Who the hell was at your door?"

"Oh, no one in particular."

"What?"

The door was violently jarred off of its hinges. In the dark, all Jorcy could see were the two lights of Edan's mechanical eyes. He found the closest light switch and flipped it. Dragen, without missing a beat stood up.

"And who would you be?"

"Dragen! What the hell are you doing?"

"Edan," he simply stated, "And you would be?"

In a bright flash of light, Dragen was gone and replaced by a tall and slender golden being. It had a royal blue cape and unsheathed two swords in proper succession. It had red markings on its body at certain points and its talons. It bowed, revealing two protrusions that came from just behind its shoulders.

"I am Grademon! The Meteor of Gold! Warrior and protector of all innocents! If it is your wish to further harm this human, then you will be commanding these two swords to be your doom!"

The Grademon let loose a furious display of his swordsmanship. The two swords swung in directions and hovered in the air because of the god-like speed in which they were wielded.

Having two digimon in the house sent Jorcy into a flurry. Panic is a motivator, and Jorcy was learning first hand just how rash it could make him. Without giving it much thought into the fact that he still couldn't fully control himself, he shifted to his digimon form. The Grademon took notice of this.

"Who would dare to sneak up on me in such a noble manner?"

"Jorcy you goofoff!"

"Jorcy, you're a shifter?" he asked, letting his swords down.

"Yeah, and Edan, you're paying for that door."

"Just come with me Jorcy."

"Why would I want to do that? You know what happened last time I did anything involving you and the gang."

"I've been instructed to bring you back at all costs, so have it your way," he said, bowing in reflection to the rules of _The Ethics_. Jorcy, not wanting to have to, bowed back to Edan, knowing full well this was a time to prove himself. Before the fight officially began, he felt a tingling run though his body. Heav was kicking in much earlier than usual, and more importantly, he seemed to be keeping himself under control.

High Energy and Velocity was the key to Jorcy's fighting style. Only a few had been able to harness the ability to add raw energy to their attacks and bodies, sending their abilities skyrocketing off the charts. If one could learn to focus Heav, then they could tap into an unlimited source of pure energy.

"You come here to take me in like a prisoner or a war criminal?" Jorcy said, now pulling out one of his menacingly powerful pistols. Edan full knew what lay inside the chamber of the weapon, and was prepared to dodge if he had to. Dragen couldn't figure out what type of digimon Jorcy was, other than resembling a Flamedramon with weird gray tribal patterns, it was completely new. Only when a soft blue aura wisped off of its head for a brief moment did he completely realize what he was looking at. Dragen had heard of Heav, but had never seen one. They were completely white due to the massive amounts of energy draining all pigment from their bodies, but that still didn't explain the tribal patterns.

"No Jorcy, we need your help."

"Oh," he said, infuriated by the thought back to when it all began, "Like I've never heard that before. My life was perfect until you damn shifters came into it and ruined everything for me."

"Did I make the decisions for you?" Edan asked, unknowingly repeating some of Ranzor's final words.

Arm tensed, mind set and finger beginning to pull back.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn….Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh…."

Dragen instantly swung both swords at the gun, hitting as Jorcy finished yelling out his attack.

"…ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooootttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt."

The projectile exploded out of the barrel and burst through the wall next to the door. Using the momentum from the hit, Jorcy swung around and pulled out his other pistol. Dragen was staring down two barrels of a digimon who was about to lose control. A metallic rhythm of unloading and loading traveled down the barrel of the pistols. Just as fast as the projectiles exited, Dragen dodged them even faster, swinging his sword to within inches of Jorcy's neck. The two backed up from each other. One startled at the speed of Dragen; the other amazed at the cunning abilities of Jorcy.

"No!" Edan yelled to bring the situation under control, "Don't kill him!"

Ignoring Edan, the warrior and the unwilling hero lunged at each other. Jorcy used his pistols to knock the two swords out of his path. He quickly drew an arm back and landed a hit to Dragen's head, which, in reply, Dragen kicked Jorcy in the head. The Heav went one way, the warrior the other. Both fell to the floor with an equal amount of frustration. Jorcy very quickly rose to his feet, making a beeline for the door leading down to a basement. Dragen and Edan took chase.

"Is he usually this unstable?" Dragen asked.

"Yes, he's not yet learned how to control Heav completely. If you end up killing him or he ends up killing himself, I'll be in some deep trouble."

"I think right now we're both in deep trouble. A Heav without and control is more than a loose cannon."

With a vicious slice, the door Jorcy had closed fell; its hinges glowing from the friction his sword's speed had created. The basement was almost as large as the house and full of clutter. A perfect spot for surprise attacks. Edan's eyes adjusted while Dragen's slowly began to make out shapes. Edan placed on of his mechanical hands on the wall and drug it ever so gingerly, looking for a light switch. Once found, he didn't hesitate to flip it into the "on" position.

Dragen began to control his breathing, hoping to catch the rabid Jorcy off guard. He weaved through piles of junk, keeping his guard up, ready to strike at the slightest movement. As he heard the approaching Grademon, Jorcy quickly threw a bottle of motor oil into the air. He jumped; flipping and landing a perfect bicycle kick to the plastic container. The force his foot exerted against the plastic smashed it to bits and the contents were sent hurling straight at Dragen. Not expecting the rain of motor oil, it successfully splattered all over the golden helmet, somehow getting into his eyes. The burning sensation heightened to the point of blindness as he reached up, clutching his eyes while roaring in pain. The sound of metal against metal shattered through the garage, and Dragen could feel the projectiles zipping by. He jumped out of the way; hoping pure speed would help him move beyond Jorcy's anticipation.

As Jorcy began to lead his guns in pursuit of Dragen, an unexpected flying kick from Edan laid him out on the ground. As quickly as the kick had come, Jorcy had spun in mid-air onto his back, smirking as he aimed for his target's head. Edan saw the faint blue of Jorcy's Heav kicking in even further. From the amount of blue aura, he could tell he was somewhere in the range of ten percent. He lunged forward, hoping to knock the guns away. Even at ten percent, it would have been stupid to do anything other than attempt to prevent the attack. As luck would have it, Edan successfully knocked the guns out of Jorcy's claws. Much to his dismay though, Jorcy caught him in mid-air and threw him as hard as he could.

From his perspective, the Guilmon was hardly moving. The amount of Heav he was drawing in had grown considerably. Unlike Edan, Dragen was on a collision course with Jorcy. He quickly dropped to the ground, letting the Grademon fly over him, landing with a roll to his feet. As Jorcy had dropped, he grabbed his guns and jumped, spinning into the air preparing to fire. Pulled triggers and no sign of any attack. Heav complimented his abilities; he, however, had to come up with his own energy, which was now too low to use his guns.

"I see your weapons no longer work," Dragen said, swinging his swords into a battle position, with each pointing in opposite directions.

"Oh, no," Jorcy gave a confident grin on his face and through his eyes, "They do."

Pushing buttons on the side of the handle, two explosive charges were put to good use. A sword popped out of both barrels, unfolding into perfect razor edges; the guns acting as the handles allowing the user to keep their hands in the same position as shooting.

"That's a neat trick."

"Ain't it?"

Jorcy lunged, swords moving nearly as fast as Dragen's. They contacted, and the Grademon pushed with all his might, sending Jorcy to the ground. Now in a position of incredible offensive possibilities, Dragen couldn't hold back any further. He put his whole body into his swinging swords. Jorcy, now continuing even further into his Heav capabilities was able to block both swords using just one of his. He, much like Dragen before him, pushed back and sent Dragen to the floor. With a tremendous surge of energy, Jorcy showed off his sword skills. Swing left, block right, jump, spin and swipe with both swords. Dragen blocked at every possible opportunity and made sure to make Jorcy pay for every mistake he made. Jorcy, with all his might, knocked a sword out of Dragen's claw. Under all that armor, a surprised face was determined to turn an error on his part into a disadvantage on Jorcy's part.

With one sword, he began to unleash a flurry of swings from every conceivable angle at every possible speed. Barely missing being sliced into dainty little pieces, Jorcy carefully calculated a way to stop the swords and retaliate. With no other options, he simply decided to block and hold off his opponent until he could stand. Dragen brought his swords back, much to a fighting hungry Jorcy's dismay. Thinking this was it, he drew back both of his swords, happy that such an ingenious secondary weapon was about to show its full potential. Unfortunately, or fortunately; Edan let his legs muscles tighten and loosen so that he delivered what had to be the hardest kick he had ever produced in his lifetime. Jorcy's consciousness didn't stand up to the Guilmon's shin as it traveled across his temple. Once his head flopped on the ground, the two defenders could relax.

"Sloppy," Dragen huffed, "But I think you got the job done."

"Oh," Edan fell to the ground, "Did I hear you remark that _I _was the sloppy one?"

* * *

**p.s. Happy New Year!**


	9. Run Like Hell

* * *

**Invisible**

**Chapter 8**

**Run Like Hell**

* * *

As the arm swung around and connected to the power plant's last hope, a brave Weregarurumon, it could only crack a smile as it realized that its great goal of consuming every single digital organism in this world would finally be achieved. Its attack was now only a few seconds out from impacting. 

Thrown nearly a minute earlier and aimed with a deliberately high angle to aid in the velocity of the attack, it had expelled nearly half of its total energy into this falling ball of energy. Once it hit a target, it did not destroy by causing an explosion. Rather it created a massive amount of aeroelastic flutter - powerful, yet super thin pressure waves- which would create a resonance (vibration) within the object being targeted. This resonance (anywhere from 30 to 65 million Hz, depending on variables such as temperature, humidity and barometric pressure) was destructive down to a quantum level, affecting the bonds between individual particles in molecules and caused the target to self-destruct in an extremely subtle manner by going from a solid to extremely fine sand within a split second.

The perfect weapon for the perfect evil.

The power plant began to blow away in the wind. Dropping to its knees, it closed a shield for protection from what was inevitably next.

White light filled the valley, cueing claws to be placed over ears. It dug its feet deep into the ground to help prepare for the shockwave.

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!**

The power plant instantly vaporized as its power source hit the air, igniting itself in a hyper-violent explosion. The sounds of body slicing ricochets zipped by as debris ranging from small rocks to, quite possibly, pieces of the digital world screamed their last through the air. It knew it wouldn't be long till the hunger was quenched. Until then, it sat, listening to the sweet sounds of his shield deflecting anything that would have been fatal. It whistled, matching the hauntingly familiar pitch.

* * *

"Damn, he's heavier than I remember him being," Edan huffed. Dragen and Edan carried Jorcy's unconscious body up the stairway, still in their digimon forms. 

"So, I think you were saying something before I had to save your life."

"Yes, I need to take him back to the Digital World."

"On what grounds?"

"He holds the key to an answer we need in regards to a rogue digimon that is threatening to eat the data of all the digimon it kills. Currently we're looking at an estimated loss of 23 percent of the total population of the Digital World. Whatever it is, we've never seen something so savagely efficient. We couldn't even dream up machines to be so productive."

"So why aren't the digimon simply regenerating when it gets its full share and has to delete some of the data from itself?" the Grademon asked, carefully helping to lower Jorcy onto the comfy couch.

"This digimon is also a rarity since it was born from Invisible itself."

"The supercomputer in charge of regenerating dead data into new life?"

"Bingo," he smirked, "He might be able to identify a residue that has apparently formed on the carcass of Invisible."

"Seesh, sounds like you guys are in for one hell of an adventure."

"Yes indeed."

"Say, how does a human like him end up being a shifter? Or is it the other way around?"

"No, he was human alright. Then he had a little run in with Ranzor---"

"The Ranzor himself? Pioneer of the doomed Digital Genome Project?"

"Yes sir'y. Poor guy. We killed Ranzor, at the cost of one of my good co-workers and Jorcy's father," he said, making quotation marks with his claws in the air when "father" was spoken. Both had, by now, shifted back to their human forms. Edan's human form most certainly had influences from south of the border.

"Jet Black?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

"I'm an old racing buddy of his. We competed against each other."

"Oh, nice. Yeah, poor old Jorcy was able to pop one off into Ranzor's chest, but inadvertently also popped another off right into Jet's chest."

Dragen's mind rewound to the point where Jorcy made a confession. He was right. A terrible sinking feeling sunk into him.

"So why do you guys still want him?"

"Because, we know if there's anyone capable of doing anything to help us out, problem solve in a split second, it's him. Plus, I still own him my life, as he saved mine on two occasions."

A rustling indicated Jorcy rising from the couch. He fell over and into the coffee table, smashing it flat. His head was pounding with excruciating pain and the past hour was missing from all memory.

"Goddamn!" he yelled, still stuck in his digimon form sprawled out across the floor. Edan approached with caution. Even though there was no blue glow emanating from any part of Jorcy, he still could be Heav and lose control of himself again.

"Jorcy? Is everything alright?"

"Well, my memory is back," he said. He instantly locked both guns, bringing them up to Edan, "If you would excuse me, I'm out of here."

"Jorcy, where do you think you're going," Dragen asked, debating whether to shift and proceed to disable Jorcy again.

"I think I'm going for a little drive," he said, opening the door and walking out into the storm. Dragen and Edan stood there, staring at each other.

"Just when you think it's over," Edan complained. The loud start up procedure of the Prodrive blasted out of the garage. Without hesitation, Dragen ran out to the garage, Ferrari key already in his hand.

"Get in it!" he yelled at a trailing Edan. The Prodrive screamed out of the driveway in reverse. A quick flick of the steering wheel and Jorcy slid the car out onto the street with professional flair. Both doors of the Ferrari closed as son as Jorcy managed to hit the clutch. Dragen started his baby, quickly throwing the car into reverse, hoping to catch Jorcy in time. Smoke poured off of the front tires until it hit the wet asphalt of the driveway. As the red Ferrari slid out in the same fashion as Jorcy had seconds before, he floored it, hoping to get away form the shifters as quickly as possible.

Without missing a beat, Dragen floored the throttle, catching up with the little silver car in no time. Windshield wipers did their jobs as the rain splattered, hoping to ruin anyone's view. The only thing racing through Jorcy's mind was to race away from that red monstrosity in his rear-view mirror. The water being thrown up behind the Prodrive dropped visibility to zero. Pulling to the side, he tried to signal Jorcy to pull over, but to no avail. A surprise to both was the fact that the streets had seemed abandoned. People were shut in, bracing for what would be the worst storm in centuries to hit the West Coast. Three idiots were outside: two of the confident ones were chasing one idiot scared silly.

A sweeping right turn onto a bridge sent both cars sideways, both drivers fighting to control their somewhat tamed beasts. Jorcy could immediately tell where they were: Pacific Coast Highway, heading north as they were crossing over the bridge over Anaheim Bay, right next to the Naval Weapon Station in Seal Beach.

The NRO van following cautiously behind them was monitoring everything they could without the use of a well placed spy satellite.

He smirked, placing his traction control indicator to the "3" slot.

"Let's see if that Italian's got some of this."

In a moment of sheer brilliance, Jorcy gunned the engine at full throttle. He shifted in an instant, his digimon form not being much larger than he was. Through the thick rain and nearly solid wash of water being thrown up, he lowered his window and aimed one of his guns for the Ferrari.

One shot. So much force blasted through the barrel, the car was rocked to the right several feet, neatly missing an impending crash with the guardrail. His shot was no where even close.

Back in the Ferrari, Dragen watched the bright projectile sail away harmlessly. Jorcy diving was erratic at best; couple that with the ferocious rain and he was an accident waiting to happen. All they could do was follow him, hoping that he wouldn't do anything to serious.

"Is he any good?"

"Any good at what?" Edan answered with a question.

"Is he any good with a car?"

"He was raised by Jet, wasn't he?"

"I understand it now."

"Why he's running?"

"Yeah. He's running from his past, isn't he?"

"Indeed. This is probably the first time I've ever participated in a living metaphor."

The chase continued into Long Beach's downtown area, weaving in and out of the empty streets. It didn't take long for both cars to reach Shoreline Dr., screaming down the same long stretch of read that Champ Cars raced down every April.

Down into a parking garage the Prodrive went with the Ferrari in hot pursuit. The dry concrete contrasted the wet tires, giving both some problems as Jorcy ascended through the levels. The electronic brain immediately shifted power from one wheel to three to two to all four without giving it much thought. The Ferrari on the other hand didn't have an electronic brain, so on the first corner Dragen attempted, he spun out in a mess of noise and smoke.

The Prodrive seemed to powerslide endlessly to the top of the parking garage, reaching it in record time. Once at the top, Jorcy realized he had nowhere to go. Outside, the rain caused him to lose sight of the buildings he had once loved to see. When he first realized Jet' death was unchangeable, his peace lasted for a few moments. Now, he could comprehend alone.

It finally hit home. It took the act of running away to teach him not to. He understood everything involved in the act e had performed. He let it all go. Dropped it. Let it pass. Thought nothing of it. Ended the discussion with his conscience.

True release hit.

He threw the door open as the Ferrari finally reached the top. Walking over to the side of the parking garage, he looked over the edge. Jorcy wasn't contemplating suicide. He knew what he was doing. Lifting his arms into the air, he let out the loudest scream of accomplishment he could. He felt in his now soaking wet pockets for the key to the attic. He pulled it out and took a few steps back, getting his arm ready to throw. He ran forward, nearly slipping and threw with all his might. Where it landed, he didn't care; all that mattered was that it was gone. He stood, laughing as he felt weight float off of him. The rain washed him of any anguish it he had ever felt. He was finally back to normal.

"He's lost it," Edan muttered.

"No," Dragen interjected, "I'd say he's found it."

Jorcy turned to see the Ferrari, its headlights beaming through a thickening rain. He understood what he had to do. It seemed that life did have a purpose after all, and his was to finally embrace the inevitable. He could only run so far.

"So," Edan said, teasing Jorcy, "Is he back to normal?"

"Was I ever?"

"Nope," his human form smirked, "And I sure hope he never is."

* * *

**The chapter title comes from a song by Pink Floyd of the same name.  
**

** I was going to be taking time off from writing till mid-February. I guess you can all count that out. This took me less than 25 hours to write. Thank you "Cloverfield"**

**Jared is back.  
**

* * *


	10. Enter the Jorcy

* * *

**Invisible**

**Chapter 9**

**Enter the Jorcy**

* * *

"Three data streams now Mont." 

"Gotcha' James. Sheesh, give it a few moments and suddenly bam! They're everywhere."

"Actually it appears they're in Long Beach, we're zooming in on the location right now via the SAR (Synthetic Aperture Radar) system," he said, monitoring the KH-17 as it moved itself into place.

"Never mind that, one of the Globalhawks is making its way. About 5 minutes out."

Bringing up the image from the newly installed EI sensor, it became clear that there was a massive data stream coming from the top of a parking lot in Long Beach.

"This is bizarre," Montgomery cracked.

"You can say that again."

"Should we try and capture a little bit of the stream?"

"Why are you asking me? I'm of lower rank," James lectured, "I shouldn't be the one making decisions."

"Oh why the hell not, get the Globalhawk ready to relay the data back to use instantly."

"Got it."

James initiated a mad scramble of button pushing and program initiations. Setting in motion hard drives ready to record what would be the first instance of the actual usage of the EI and its systems.

"Let's hope this works on real targets."

* * *

"I just realized I can't keep running, you know? Your past is exactly what it is." 

"And that'd be?" Dragen asked.

"Your past," Jorcy replied, his face lighting up like it use to, "I'm not dragging around anymore moping about, nothing like feeling back to normal…well, as normal as I'd like to think I am."

"I bet you do," Edan said, patting him on his back, "Now how about we get out of this rain and head back to your house so we can discuss the problem."

"Alright, but I don't necessarily have to accept the offer."

"Fine by me, but I think you might want to, there's something that I think you'd find very interesting about it."

"What?" he asked, heading back to his car.

"I'll tell you when we get there," Edan said, plopping back into the Ferrari. As soon as Jorcy hit the seat, the Ferrari had already started up. Not wanting to keep them waiting, he started the car and placed it into gear without worrying about closing the door. Finally understanding where such a damp draft was coming from, he quickly closed the door, muttering something about his stupidity.

The two cars pulled out onto Shoreline Dr., and Jorcy quickly noticed he wasn't strapped in.

"Oh damnit," he huffed, trying to keep his eyes on the road while hooking up a racing harness.

* * *

"15 seconds…," the electronic voice alerted James and Montgomery. 

"If this works, we'll be getting promotions."

"You really think so?" James asked as he quadruple checked all the monitors to make sure the three data streams were still active.

"I don't think so, I know so," Montgomery said; sweat starting to trickle down his forehead. He bit at his thumbnail, watching the clock down to the final seconds before the EI was to kick in.

"Five…Four…Three…Two…One…Zero Zero…EI engaging…Dry 100 percent."

"Here we go," he said, still biting at his thumbnail.

* * *

"Oh for goodness sake!" Jorcy yelled, still fumbling with the harness. He glanced up and saw a traffic light switching to yellow. His foot, by magnificent instinct, slammed down onto the brake pedal which in turn sent him flying forward, his nose glancing off of the steering wheel with the cartilage letting a sickening crack flatly die in the air. After the jerking halt, it was just the constant sound of rain pounding on the carbon fiber and glass. 

After such a tremendous hit, his vision was blurred well beyond anything he had ever wanted to experience. So much so, he was feeling the onset of nausea. With a throbbing nose which Jorcy knew would probably start bleeding at any second, he would have to finish the harness later. He needed to pull over somewhere, and soon.

The 599 had been caught at a light a block back. Both noticed something was up with a detail in the usually undetectable background.

"You feel that?" Dragen asked.

"You bet I feel that," Edan didn't hesitate, "I think it may be a---"

Back in the Prodrive, Jorcy, lacking any form of ability to detect anything out of the ordinary (actually, he subconsciously had a ability to be attracted to the unordinary, which had led him into a few forays of extreme exhilaration, not counting the one before this) didn't happen to notice any evidence of a massive digital rift opening up in front of him. The first thing he noticed was the interior of his car lighting up beyond a Christmas tree. He only attributed it to a break in the clouds, not the obvious gaping hole in reality that he was slowly drifting towards.

He glanced back up, and there it was. It took a double and a triple take for him to finally comprehend what exactly the car was within mere feet of.

"Oh f---"

Into reverse he went, flooring the throttle. Now caught within the rifts grip, all four of the wheels were spinning on the ground, creating a massive cloud of smoke. Jorcy instantly recognized that nothing was going to prevent him from entering the rift. As the final strap clicked in, he took his foot off of the throttle and shifted the car into neutral. Dragen and Edan were not prepared to go anywhere near a rift, therefore seeing an entire car lifted up and into one was a bit of a shock.

"After him!"

"I'm on it!" Dragen said, putting it to the floor. The whole car screamed forward like nothing else out there. Both of them closed their eyes as they hit the rift and kept them closed until the Ferrari came to a full and complete stop.

"That was a lot smoother than usual," Edan quipped.

"I've no clue; it's been so long since I've even been back to the Digital World."

"Oh hell!!!" the metal prosthetic Guilmon erupted in frustration. Dragen opened his eyes to disappointment.

"Either the Digital World looks a helluva' lot like Shoreline Dr., or the rift closed up before we even reached it."

"Alright, we need to get back to Jorcy's house ASAP."

"Roger that," he replied, launching the car into another high speed jaunt.

* * *

"Shit!" Montgomery yelled at the top of his lungs. 

"I take it you've noticed we've lost one?"

"Yeah, disengage it immediately and begin data collection. I don't want anything to be lost. Obviously we've had a malfunction that someone might know of. So let's make sure we don't damage any data we may need later. I'm going to be calling in some guys to help us sort this out."

As soon as he was doing play manager, he moved to the phone and dialed as fast as he could.

"Please send a note to the NRO Operations Manager; let him know we've finally done it and what we should do next, signed Captain Montgomery. I'll be awaiting his reply."

* * *

**Remember that time I used "foray" correctly? That should win me a Pulitzer fo' sho'. Short chapter, no apologies. The title is obviously hinting at "Enter the Dragon" only this time the lameness is not as subtle as "Run Like Hell". This is the lamest name I have ever given to a chapter. If you can think of something better, leave it in the review and you'll make me happy and relaxed.  
**

* * *

* * *


	11. Back

* * *

**Invisible**

**Chapter 10**

**Back**

* * *

The dropping sensation in his stomach was beginning to get to him. The whole experience of traveling from the Real World to the Digital World was an unnerving experience for Jorcy, no matter how many times he had gone through it, he just couldn't shake it. As the cosmic sized spin of psychedelic colors began to induce nausea, he held onto the straps of the harness as best he could. Greens, blues, red, oranges, browns, purples and yellow 5 swirled all around the car on a background of pure white. It was only a matter of time before he would be in a place he wasn't ready to go back to.

A shudder indicated that wherever he was going, he was going at a higher speed than the car was designed for. The rear-spoiler bent up and down in the unseen velocity. The side mirrors began to jiggle with such force, the screws holding them in began to go through structural failure. The front of the car had a white glow: cue the frictional heating.

He could feel the conversion of his body from matter to digital data beginning. The feeling is indescribable, due to the fact that first being split into several hundred thousand tiny cubes renders all feeling null and void. If that wasn't enough, the disintegration of Jorcy into a pile of digital mass helped further his loss of feeling. Soon the car was also a pile of digital mass, and through a simple regenerative program, the newly formed digital mass was put back together, piece by piece, bit by bit.

As he was being reformatted, his sense of hearing was the first thing to return. The sound of being reformatted was a sickening metallic noise like that of some unknown monster lurking in broad daylight, snickering at its prey in a sadistic manner. It became so loud, his eardrums couldn't register the sound, creating a terribly empty silence.

It was added to an ever increasing list of things setting off to aggravate his stomach.

As if the body breaking apart and being reformed was enough of a reality-shattering experience, then the spinning was sure to throw him into a tizzy. That tizzy was actually occurring, as his head rolled back and forth with the burdening forces and strain being placed on his body. His mental toughness was seeping through and keeping him sane, as any normal-minded person would have surely lost it by now and decayed into something much more primitive. With a dreadful thump and a graceful explosion, the car was now sailing at hundreds of miles per hour only a few hundred feet off of the ground.

_Strange_, he thought to himself. This entrance wasn't like the typical one in which they were dropped off several thousand feet in the air. Also, he wasn't in the usual flat-spin that was conveniently thrown in all the time for free. His stomach began to feel somewhat better. That was until a slight hill appeared out of nowhere. Jorcy tensed up, fear from what he knew would be a ferocious impact. The car tensed up, fear from what it knew would ruin its good looks.

**WABAM!**

Flying forward and into the straps with the force he did would surely leave bruises. The car tumbled end over end, occasionally smashing into the ground and tearing the body of the car to pieces. The violence of the crash was even more spectacular inside of the car, where, from Jorcy's perspective, debris building up inside the car seemed to follow gravity from thousands of different points in space. He closed his eyes as he heard the windows shattering, the crunching of carbon fiber and the moaning of all the systems in the car. Fluids sprayed wildly, soaking the air with their putrid selves. He felt a hit much more violent than any he had felt in the unfolding of the crash. The steering wheel broke free and smashed him in his head.

As the tumbling slowed, the rolling began. Side over side over side over side. It was a rally-car crash at nearly 200mph, and it didn't seem to be ending anytime soon. Not until the car, fully inverted, dug itself into the ground. Sliding across the ground, it looked like a breakdancer finishing their routine. As the mangled wreck of the body continued to careen out of control, Jorcy couldn't help but realize the immediate peril he was in was much worse than when he had first come to the Digital World. At least the car crash when he first visited the Digital World had been smooth; this one was one hell of a bumpy ride.

With a stop worse than that of a taxi, the car jolted to a silent halt.

The first sound heard coming from the overturned car was a harness unbuckling, followed promptly by Jorcy falling and groaning in pain. He pulled himself out, some glass cutting open his jeans and digging into his left knee. His second act in the Digital World was even less glamorous, as he got up onto his hands and knees and proceeded to relieve his stomach of any queasy feelings. The stinging liquid slapped onto the sand.

"Sand!" he said between heaves. He looked around as best he could and recognized he was on a beach with phone booths all around him.

"I'm right back where I started!" he proclaimed before his stomach gave its final reversal of the digestion process. It had only been a few months back on his first trip that he had ended up right where he was now. Standing up, he decided to check the phones, not remember much about his original trip. He picked up the receiver and closed the door. He heard a dial tone and quickly dialed the number to his house, hoping Edan, Dragen or both of them would be there.

"How many times do I have to tell you?!?" a voiced yelled back, "You think there's such a thing as a free lunch? Hang up this phone and go save someone or something! Hell, save the world while you're at it!"

He abruptly hung up the phone, not wanting to be a hero. A tapping on the glass alerted Jorcy to the fact that something was outside of the booth, and he reluctantly turned to the door. With a covered face, skinny body (from what he could see of it) and bladed hands and feet, Jorcy had run into a ninja that he might have seen in a few nightmares.

"Pardon me for interrupting your call, but I couldn't help but notice something flying around over here and thought someone might have been in need of medical assistance. Are you okay?"

_Are you okay? _Jorcy mocked in his mind. What kind of a question was that to ask someone who had just traveled to an alternate reality and survived a wreck that could have easily killed him? Are you okay? Its unintended sarcasm served to amuse Jorcy for a split second, contemplating all the possible answers he could give: Yes or No.

"No," Jorcy admitted.

"What?" it asked, "I can't hear you through the glass."

Jorcy slid the door open, "No," and promptly closed it.

"Are you afraid of me or something?"

"Not really," he smirked, "You look easy as hell."

"Wait, you look familiar."

"I do?"

"Are you a?…oh my goodness!" he said, covering where Jorcy figured his mouth would be, "Are you a human?" he asked whispering.

"Yeah."

"Oh my!" he yelled, "I've never met a real human before! I might as well introduce myself: I am _the _Artemus Barter, entertainer extraordinaire, Shurimon and as dangerous as they come," he said, entering into a simple fight stance and spinning his hand blades to high speeds, "Wanna' hear a joke?"

"Sure, why not," Jorcy reluctantly stepped out of the phone booth.

"I'd be honored to tell a human a joke," he said, clearing his throat, "Have you ever noticed how Virus types walk like this?" he continued in a walking motion, "An Vaccine types look like this?" he continued walking in the exact same manner.

The blank stare in return said it all.

"Shut up and clap!" Artemus yelled, stomping a foot on the ground.

"Well, I've shut up at least," Jorcy said, walking away.

"Hey!" the digimon yelled, running over to his rickshaw, "Where're you headed?"

* * *

"And, if this video is correct, when the EI was activated for data retrieval, a massive amount of electronic interference concentrated into a minute spot caused us to lose contact with one of the three data streams that were occurring at the time."

"Good work Montgomery, I think we all have confidence in what has been some of the finest work we have seen since the days of your father and his tip-top plan we executed in Desert Storm," the 4-star general smirked. Montgomery was relieved; he could finally leave his emergency shift to get some sleep. After talking with the necessary officials and persons, he checked into the control room one more time.

"Everything going good James?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine, my relief will be here in 6 hours, so then I'll finally get some rest."

"Nothing like being awake for 56 hours non-stop, eh?"

"It's quite the challenge, go get some sleep boss."

"Later James," he said, letting the glass door shut on its own. He turned to see the general he had just debriefed walking towards him.

"General Albus," he said, saluting.

"Oh for god's sake Montgomery, don't salute me when I approach you. It makes me feel like the old man I'm becoming."

"I apologize sir."

"Listen, it's not up to me what is going to be happening next, but those prissy asshats at the NRO are sending in someone to work independently of you on this project. They'll be working with you, but not under your authority."

"So why are they sending someone anyhow?"

"They say this guy apparently has been working on our target for some time now and has a highly specialized knowledge of dealing with cyber terrorism. If anything, I think the NRO are trying to cut you out of this operation. I'm going to see to it that you're assigned a position so that you are irreplaceable."

"Thank you sir."

"Oh, no need to thank me. You're father was an excellent strategist, and I think you've already surpassed his level in such a short amount of time. Montgomery, you've impressed me, so that should show you just how amazing you must be."

"Thank you sir."

"Alright Montgomery, off to your rest period."

He saluted out of habit, bringing it down when Albus's eyes shot him a dirty look. He continued his walk to his cot, hoping the next 12 hours would be spent in deep relaxation.

* * *

"…so then I said, "That's like letting a Tentomon do your taxes!""

Silence from Jorcy.

"Shut up and clap!"

"I'd rather have renal failure than listen to another joke of yours."

"Oh, c'mon, they can't be that bad."

"God," Jorcy said, looking up to the sky, "If you're as compassionate as people say you are, kill me if he makes another joke."

"As I said before," he said, trotting along with the rickshaw in tow, "they can't be that bad."

"Where's a cliff? Oh wait, I'm on a beach. I guess I could just walk into the ocean. Or maybe there's some stick around here so I can use it to rupture my eardrums," he said, feeling his pockets for a knife, but felt a large rectangular style block. His iPod. Quickly pulling his expected savior out, he frowned when he looked upon it. It seemed that his iPod had gone through some rather drastic changes, as it now was a digivice in his colors or white, gray and black. As he touched the side of it, the interface loaded onto a main screen.

"They've gone and turned the iPhone into a digivice," he muttered under his breath, "Let's hear it for an original fucking idea!" he yelled to no one in particular. Finally giving up on the beach, he decided to make his way inland. His first task was scaling a massive sand dune. Once reaching the top of your average sand dune, typically there are several others, but this was no typical sand dune, as it didn't drop out into a small little trough but was topped with asphalt about one-hundred and fifty feet wide. White stripes continued down the middle of its surface, cracks filled with weeds growing out of them. He knew of only one abandoned airfield in the Digital World.

"Chelone," he said, smiling, "Let's hear it for some ironic placement!"

* * *

** I've gotten tired of giving chapters decent names. **

**Sausages! Sau...Sausages! Sausages! Please, sausages! Sausages! Sausages! Sausage! Sausages! Sausage! Sausages! Sausage!!!**


	12. Friendly Fire

* * *

**Invisible**

**Chapter 11**

**Friendly Fire**

* * *

There is absolutely, positively, undoubtedly no chance in heaven or hell that Jorcy could have been as lucky as he appeared to have been. 

"My luck has changed!" he proclaimed, reaching up to the massive wall of one of Chelone's many hangers. Hanger 42 held a deep significance as the entrance when Jorcy was around it. It was the only hanger to lead into the underground maze that made up the center of their operations just a few months back. Seeing no way for him to open the hanger door, he walked over to the side door and attempted to open it. No dice.

Taking a few steps back, he put all his effort into jumping into the door. All it did was send him backwards, his shoulder stinging. He walked back even further. His intention to kick the door worked until he lifted his leg, his leg on the ground sliding out from under him. Concrete is not forgiving, nor are steel doors. Not only was his shoulder hurting, but so were both of his legs. As he looked up at the Sun, Artemus came into view, blocking it with his hidden head.

"Are you okay?" he said, offering one of his shuriken shaped hands.

"Yeah, I can get back up on my own, thanks."

"Suit yourself. I'mma' going to try to cut through it."

"You won't be able to," Jorcy said, intentionally forgetting to alert him to the presence of electrified wires in between two layers of hardened digital-chrome with steel alloy covers. It only took a few seconds, but as he picked himself up, Artemus let out a yappy scream.

"What'd I tell you?" Jorcy smirked, "Just stand aside and I'll do this."

"Do what?" Artemus said, going to look at the side of the building. With the pest out of sight, Jorcy shifted, locking and loading his guns as he came up point-blank with the door. One round of projectile barrage, and the door was blown off its hinges, huge holes smoking in the wall behind it. He quickly shifted back to his natural human form and stepped through.

"My word!" Artemus yelled in disbelief, "Humans can do this?"

"Yeah, just about everyone can if they really apply themselves. But you know us," he said, finding the switch to open the hanger door.

"No, I don't know humans…Whoa! This place is huge!"

The gapingly large expanse of the inside of the hanger was made apparent. Someone had left the lights on too. Jorcy figured the electricity bill would be outrageously high thanks to them. He looked over the railing of the tunnel that led to the underground portion of the base.

"Wow! What an establishment!"

"How about you go underground and see if anyone is here," Jorcy asked reluctantly.

"Sure," Artemus said without a hint of fear. He continued down a long slope to the double doors leading in. Jorcy let a sigh of relief escape him. He had run-ins with annoying digimon before, but never any on this scale. He felt his pockets and couldn't find what he wanted. Noticing a tinted glass window leading to what could be an office, Jorcy walked over. Seeing no way in, he did what anyone would naturally choose to do.

The glass to the office shattered as soon as his foot made contact, surprising himself with the power in his kick. He fell to the floor, successfully landing without causing any pain. As he hoped up, he nearly slid on a piece of broken glass, chuckling off a near encounter of gluteus maximus to the ground. He had wished that a desk was behind the tinted glass, and his wish had been granted. Opening the drawers, he searched frantically for a permanent marker. Finding one was just the beginning, as he exited the office through the gigantic hole of a broken window. He walked up to a wall bathed in the harsh sunlight from outside. Taking the top off, the flat fumes of the marker wafted in the light breeze. Tip touched concrete, and he let it flow from within:

**My Manifesto**

**I was apparently chosen because I had everything they wanted. Unluckily, I escaped, running from a past in which I wanted nothing to do with. Now, later in my life, it's caught up and bit me in the ass. It's not my fault, I should've seen it coming like a freight train, but I didn't. I've come to grips with who exactly I am and what I've gone through to get to this point. What was a traumatic terror in my mind a few days ago has now finally come to peace. From this day forward, I will be different. I'm no longer who I use to be, I've transformed myself into what I've always wanted to be, and I kind of like it.**

**Your past is exactly what it is: your past.**

He finished with a smile, realizing that as long as the wall wasn't destroyed, it'd be here forever for anyone to see. He glanced at the middle of the paragraph he had jotted out and noticed what looked like black plastic stuck within it. As he looked to the floor and saw pieces of something black, he came to the realization that he was looking at the remains of his old sunglasses. The ones he threw in frustration at Flame. The thought of that final confrontation between the two came back, in which he questioned Flame's intentions so unrelentingly, that Flame's only answer was a clean right-claw across Jorcy's left cheek.

He bent down to examine them in greater detail. That's when he heard it. An absolutely dreadful noise, like that of a flag flapping in a supersonic wind whooshed by above him. He could feel a searing heat cooking at his scalp. He rolled over, shifting to his digimon form when he did. His white form looking up through the goggles screwed into his face at where he had written his manifesto, now burning out of control. He looked to see his attacker. He couldn't help but grin.

"Well I'll be," he laughed, "I was just thinking about the very moment in which we both realized just how in over our heads we were."

"You were in over your head," the Flamedramon corrected, "I was in control."

"Or so both of us thought," Jorcy pressed while standing up.

"I thought you never wanted me in your life again, you only said it to me where you're standing at right now. So why the hell would you come back?"

"If you think I wanted to come back, then you really are in over your head Flame. I'd suggest, for the sake of both of our outrageously ego-driven lives that we should diffuse this situation right now and let each other go our separate ways."

"There's something about you Jorcy," he said, circling Jorcy as he walked out of the hanger, "There's a secret you think you have kept, but I know the truth. I know what happened that night we took out Ranzor."

"Do you now?"

"I do! You'd _like_ everyone to think it was an accident, but I know what happened. Only someone as sick as you could stand over Jet, smiling in such an accomplished manner as you did."

Jorcy stopped dead. The very thought of someone he had once considered a great friend accusing him of such an unspeakable act sent him into a state of mental shock.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me right Jorcy. You wanted to remove Jet out of your life, so you killed him, hoping no one would've seen that small smirk of triumph you let slip."

In his mind, he had already drawn his guns from out of their holsters and blown Flame away from here to oblivion. Even thought he was dead, he continued to shoot into the lifeless body, showing it the ultimate disrespect; but all of this being in his mind, he was able to keep it contained.

His impressive amount of self-restraint went a long way. He instead shot Flame the dirtiest look he could, hoping his eyes were showing his feelings through the lenses of the goggles. It worked apparently thanks to Flame's sudden look of apprehension. Flame must have known he had struck a nerve that could have led to a fight.

Jorcy turned back around and continued to walk away, but the Flamedramon behind him wasn't about to let up. In fact, the poster-boy of courage behind him picked up his pace, and when in arms reach, he let a right fly across the back of Jorcy's head. Just as he had before, the feeling of shock outweighed pain as Jorcy fell to the floor.

"First rule!" Flame yelled, "Never blink!"

Whatever had happened between Jorcy and Flame had now reached a level beyond rivalry. It was something along the lines of a timeless hatred. Rivalries are annoying, but hatred is a matter of life and death. Now seeing no reason to hold himself back, Jorcy brought his claws down to his holsters, gripping the handles of his massive guns.

"Do it and it'll be the last time you'll ever reach for them," Flame said, quickly preparing to dodge anything Jorcy would send his way. Jorcy heard Flame's words and let an unsettling, skin-crawling smile whip across his maw.

"Oh, I do say, I think it'll be the last time _you _ever see it," he joked, his mind entering into a different world. That feeling he always got when he was in a pressure cooker of a situation swept over him. What would usually have put his body into a total panic was now calming him. Breathing and adrenaline slowed allowing reactions and his mind to heighten their already ferocious pace.

"Confidence is a real killer," Flame said, reminding his student of the teachings he had given earlier.

As Jorcy pulled the guns out, Flame dropped to the ground, his claws beginning to have a reddish glow. The two digimon were now eye to eye; one with its claws ready to ignite, the other with its gun ready to unleash hell.

"You think you're really going to do me in?" Flame asked.

"Do you think I really want to pull this trigger?"

"I don't know. How badly did you want to kill Jet? If I were you, I'd want to kill witnesses even more so than Jet himself."

"I didn't kill Jet," he choked on his last nerve, "There's a reason the word "accident" was created."

"Oh, so now it's an accident?"

"It's been an accident from the get-go Flame. Why would I want to kill the only member of my family?" his voice cracking.

"Why not?"

He just couldn't understand why Flame was being so stubborn. It was utterly annoying, even more so than Artemus. Somewhere deep inside of himself, something also felt hurt by Flame. When a teacher begins to make false accusations against their own student, it can hurt worse than any wound. Frustrating was too shallow a word to describe how he felt.

"Goddamnit Flame!" he yelled, "Can't you understand that what happened was an accident!?! It seems like every time I finally come to grips with it someone has to come along and kick the sand back in my face!!!"

Flame's impatience grew. He, once again, let an unexpected right fly across the face of Jorcy.

"Rule number one!" he yelled. The distinct metallic click of two massively powerful guns sounded through the air outside the hanger.

"Don't blink," Jorcy said with the smile from earlier coming back on his face. Flame knew he had finally done it. His first real feeling of fear came as he realized what he had unleashed, seeing the blue aura skimming Jorcy's skin. He knew the only offense he could produce was a good defense, and in a desperate attempt to prevent his head from turning into cherry pie on the hanger wall, he jumped up into the air. The two projectiles skimmed along his facemask's surface sounding like nails on a chalkboard. While in the air, he put a clean kick across Jorcy's claws, sending the guns flying out of them. As he landed, Jorcy pushed himself into the air, using his arms to build up the momentum for a flying kick into Flame's chest. Falling back, Flame quickly recovered only to be met by a right to his face. He took the time it took Flame to recover to get his claws back in his guns comfort.

In all his haste, the best thing Flame had done was land near a concrete block. He recognized it as an escape hatch from inside the base, and quickly jumped behind it as he heard the guns reload themselves automatically. The god-like power they unleashed began to chew away at the concrete. Flame ducked as chunks of concrete began to rain down on him. The sound of the guns firing fully automatic was a long metallic buzzing noise. The rounds were firing so fast, it nearly created a line of metal from the barrel of the gun to the concrete. Jorcy let go of the triggers, keeping them up and ready to fire the instant he saw blue. Flame, knowing it was an attempt on him, removed one of his gauntlets, holding it with his uncovered claw and had it "peek" every so slightly over the concrete, hoping it would make Jorcy fire again, hoping it would drain him of all his energy.

Pulled trigger, hammer down, primer cap struck, fuel ignited, casing held, armor-piercing round spinning in the rifling, out the barrel, hot blast of fire, kickback into Jorcy's palm, casing ejected, next round in the chamber, lock and load, do it again.

The white digimon knew he couldn't keep it up much longer. Already drained from the events of the last half-day and now another battle, he stopped firing and conserved his energy.

"Flame!" he yelled, "I'm throwing my guns down. I can't keep it up much longer."

He let them fly through the air towards the concrete mess. The block had three-quarters of its original volume lying in rubble. Upon hearing the clinking noise, the Flamedramon bolted with a fury only few had ever witnessed. Jorcy quickly placed himself into his classic attack stance: right foot back, left foot forward, both claws ready to catch Flame and divert his momentum. Unfortunately, it wasn't Jorcy's lack of experience that allowed Flame to lay down a wicked left, but his increasingly unwilling drive to participate in a fight with someone he had once considered a friend. It might have ended sour, but he still didn't feel it necessary to come to blows. But it seemed that in their time apart from each other, fighting was the only thing that Flame could understand.

Flame knocked him under his jaw, bringing him up in the air. As he was laid out in the air, Flame's quick speed allowed him to get both claws on Jorcy and throw him into the ground, much like what had happened when they both met for the first time in Jorcy's house. He twisted Jorcy's legs in a manner that immobilized him and began to give him the beating of his life. A left connected with his right goggle lens, sending a crack across it. A right to his cheek sent teeth flying. Seeing the crack, Flame let another unrelenting left hit the goggles, this time shattering the lens and casing around them. The pain his exposed eyes felt burnt straight through his head. Jorcy fought back, landing a right to Flame's ears. A loud crack indicated that something in the one ear his fist had managed to meet up with had broken, and Flame took notice to this, reaching up with one gauntlet to clutch it as best his gauntlets could, he continued to pummel Jorcy with the his free gauntlet.

The cooling calm of being pummeled as bad as Jorcy was crept up his spine, reminding him just exactly what he needed to do. In an act of pure adrenaline, he caught Flame's free gauntlet, stopping it dead. Flame pushed as hard as he could and Jorcy pushed his arm back. The muscles burning from the exertion sent Flame into his own world of pain. Shocked that someone could remain conscious while taking a beating the size that he had delivered on time to Jorcy, he didn't see Jorcy's head coming up. The classic headbutt was an effective tool, and sent Flame sprawling backwards across the ground. Jorcy rolled over; his legs finally back to their usual working selves. As he did, he noticed his digivice laying there. It's screen reading:

_**HEAV attained…commencing next sequence**_

_**-\**_

_**/-**_

_**-\**_

_**/-**_

_**Complete…Uploading…**_

_** Silent Project Protocol **_

It was at that point of confusion that Jorcy began to feel himself changing. The blinding light was a dead giveaway to Flame that something was occurring with Jorcy that he could have never expected. His mouth opened when he came to the startling conclusion as to what he was witnessing.

Jorcy was digivolving.

The feeling of his body molding into something completely different was disturbing on many levels at all at once. It was strangely comforting, maybe even a feeling that could become highly addictive, which would explain why only selected digimon were allowed to digivolve.

Once complete, there it stood right where Jorcy had been lying. It face looked to be based off of a Flamedramon's, except it had a longer snout, extending the length of the head, complete with the tribal symbols below both eyes and goggles (much like his previous digivolution's goggles) covering them. Everything seemed to be a bit leaner, like it had been specifically designed for hand-to-hand combat. It also had a metal "backpack" with straps over his shoulders. His arms and legs were still the same, as was the general shape of his body. He was still covered in those symbols: gray outlined by a thick black line. He was glad again that they had drawn inside the lines.

"Easy picken's Jorcy," Flame said, fully confident he'd have Jorcy turning into data in a matter of seconds.

"Confidence is a real killer," the student quipped, reminding the teacher of the lesson taught earlier.

Flame roared as he ran, gauntlet back and ready to land a punch. Jorcy quietly marched forward, the blue aura now becoming a haze around him. Instead of punching, Flame launched himself into the air. Jorcy stopped and focused harder on the task at hand. As he did, everything seemed to slow down to such a considerable level, that as Flame flew over him, he could easily get ahead of him just by walking. In this new found world, he jumped up, grabbing on to Flame and throwing him to the ground. As the Flamedramon bunched up as he impacted the hard asphalt, his facial expression was still the same as when he was airborne. Deciding to test a hypothesis he had made up on the spot, Jorcy knelt to the ground and picked up a small rock. He brought it up and let go, watching it stay at a standstill for a few seconds before slowly beginning to plummet to the ground. Jorcy understood.

HEAV was finally being accessed.

The last thing Flame remembered was being in the air, not slamming into the ground. The pain shot up his shoulder, he was sure something there had been tweaked. He hopped up to his feet, seeing the blue aura of HEAV now pouring off of Jorcy, bubbling along the ground.

"Shit," was all he could muster. He kicked himself into overdrive and sent everything he had at Jorcy. On the other side of the battle, Jorcy was deep into the zone, watching (actually, more like observing comfortably) Flame attack him in slow motion. A left hook was blocked, the right jab avoided, a small bicycle-kick dodged. Flame was pushing as hard as he could, but to Jorcy, he was simply watching it all unfold, no longer needing to anticipate Flame's next move as he tumbled through the air slowly. In desperation, Flame tried a flying kick. As he slowly spun around, Jorcy simply walked up and grabbed onto Flame's outstretched foot. He swung the Flamedramon around and into Hanger 42's huge door, smashing through it. He jumped through the hole to find Flame on the ground, writhing around in pain. It faded as soon as Flame saw Jorcy standing, and he kicked on the ground, sliding across the smooth concrete floor. He attempted to connect a gauntlet with Jorcy, but Jorcy grabbed on and brought Flame into the air. He swung around and did what Flame had failed to do, giving a crushing hit to Flame's chest. He reached and pulled Flame back, this time landing a football like kick to Flame right where it counted; Flame's eyes looked like they were bulging out of their sockets.

Weakness ran through Jorcy's new found form. He felt his body morph back to his usual digimon form. He could only see out of his left eye, his right still burning as it began to bleed. He walked over, twirling one of his guns in his claw. Kneeling down onto Flame's chest, he roughly dropped his knee, knocking the wind out of his now defeated opponent. Flame knew that this was the end he had feared, and at the hands of someone who he had helped to better apparently. He closed his eyes and prepared for the loud bang before it was all lights out. Jorcy placed the gun against the facemask and knew it was the end. But as he did, he couldn't help but realize how bad he had let Jet's death get to him. It was now at the point that he was killing to help himself feel innocent, and it was something he couldn't see himself doing. He stood up, Flame's eyes squinting to see what Jorcy was doing. One side of Jorcy wanted to kill Flame for blaming him for Jet's death, but the other side had convinced him that it was a simple misunderstanding, something that could be easily forgiven. With little if any hesitation, Jorcy's guns dropped to the floor for the third time.

The third time was the charm.

Too tired to shift back to his human form, Jorcy began walking away; dragging his feet as his whole body felt sore. A jerk from behind and he was spun around, landing on his back. This time, it was Flame's knee being firmly placed into Jorcy's chest. Flame pulled back his left arm and let one go across Jorcy's paining eye.

"Why didn't you tell me?!?" Flame yelled.

"I told you!" Jorcy said, pushing him off. Flame slumped to his side, sitting and leaning against the wall under Jorcy's burnt-out manifesto.

"You had me! You had me right there and that's when I saw it! You were right Jorcy…you were right."

"We all have accidents Flame," Jorcy quietly laughed, "This one is no exception. When you're running on pure emotion you'll do anything to anyone, regardless of its outcome."

Both shifters remained quiet for a second, breathing heavily as both were on the path to regaining their normal composure.

"Sorry about your eye," Flame said.

"No worries, nothing a little Clear can't help."

"No, unless you get Clear on it soon, it'll stay that way and it'll have to heal naturally. I can take you back to my place, but it's a few hours out, even if I was able to fly it'd still take too much time."

"I guess I'll just have to tough it out then," Jorcy said, painfully pulling a chunk of the goggle's lens out of the skin around his eye. Air flooded into the laceration, setting his nerves off worse than when he had left it in.

"That was a low blow to finish the fight with," Flame smirked, "Figuratively and literally. I thought I had taught you better than that."

"Desperation will drive a man to do anything. You had taught me better, but it didn't seem like anything was going to stop you, so I had to do something."

"Jorcy, I apologize---"

"Oh come off it Flame, I already to you it was alright---"

"No, I apologize…period. I should've realized something about you…"

"And that is?"

Flame looked hesitant.

"Holy hell!" Artemus yelled, emerging from the ramp. He immediately jumped into his stance, "Alright you two! Prepare to have your ass kicked by the fiercest of warriors!"

"Is everyone I meet going to be having a cheesy thing to say before they start a fight?"

"Jorcy?!?"

"Yeah, it's me Artemus."

"When did you become a digimon?"

"He's a product of a botched assault on Ranzor. Ranzor attempted to modify Jorcy, thinking he was a digimon. It ended up turning Jorcy into a shifter," Flame introduced, "I'm Flame by the way."

"Good to meet you. Need help up?" he asked, extending one of his super-sharp hands.

"No," Flame said, pulling himself to his feet, "I'm good."

"What about you Jorcy?"

"I'm good AB, but thanks anyhow," Jorcy said, trying his best to stand. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, but he knew there wouldn't be any.

"Hey!" the ninja said to Flame, "Wanna' hear a joke?"

"Sure," Flame said, clutching his shoulder in his gauntlet. Jorcy tried to signal Flame to cover his ears, but to Flame, Jorcy was just waving his arms by his head.

"Have you ever noticed how Virus types walk like this?" he continued in a walking motion, "An Vaccine types look like this?" he continued walking in the exact same manner. A chuckle from Flame turned into uproarious laughter. Artemus looked over at Jorcy, arm point towards him, "Shut up and clap!"

"That's a pretty good one," Flame said, taking a moment to catch his breath, "So, shall we head over to my place to get ourselves bandaged up?"

"Yeah, but how long will it take if we walk?"

"Oh, probably half a day or so."

"Guys," Artemus said, getting their attention as the two walked out of the hanger, "I can fly!" He then proceeded to demonstrate, spinning his hands and feet up to such high speeds, that he lifted off of the ground, Just hop into the rickshaw and I'll get us on the way."

Seeing no objections from either one of them, they jumped in.

"Gosh, why didn't you tell me this guy was so funny before?"

"I've no clue," Jorcy muttered as Artmeus wrapped his legs around the rickshaw.

"Contact!" the flying ninja yelled.

"He's just a brilliant comedian," Jorcy sarcastically remarked, "Just BRILLIANT!!!" he finished his sentence yelling as Artemus lifted the rickshaw off of the ground, accelerating faster than either of the two wanted to.

* * *

**After some sort bursts, I hit you with a long one! Whabam sons! Would you believe I wrote this listening to nothing but U2 and Boards of Canada? Relaxing music actually helped me write a fight scene. How delightfully amusing to me. **

**Also, did anyone catch on to the pun intended by "Friendly Fire"? Eh? Eh? Get it, it's a joke! Shut up and clap!!!  
**


	13. Goggle Drill

* * *

**Invisible**

**Chapter 12**

**Goggle Drill**

* * *

"My eye," Jorcy said, clutching at it. 

"Just shift back for now," Flame implored.

"I'm too tired. You can even check it on the digivice," he tossed it to Flame, who caught it precisely between his long claws, "It'll tell you the same thing. I know that injuries I've received in my digital form carry over to my normal self."

"How've you been able to check that?"

Jorcy's answer was a grin. The conversation and possible answer was abruptly and rather rudely interrupted by a bad landing on account of Artemus not usually having to carry passengers while flying.

"Sorry!" he yelled down to the occupants of a new smashed rickshaw, "I really liked that rickshaw."

"Well thanks for the heads up!" Jorcy yelled, his annoyance towards Artemus building further.

"Uh, Jorcy," Flame said, throwing the digivice to him.

"What?" he asked, turning just in time for the digivice to glance off his injured eye. Flame brought a gauntlet up to his mouth, covering a slight smile, "Oops."

"Mother of god how much am I going to have to go through!"

"Quite a bit more, I'm afraid some parts in my home are quite a tight fit," Flame admitted, walking up to the entrance of a cave. Jorcy opened his eyes again, both watered up too much for him to make out much, but there was something wrong. He closed his left eye and his vision was obstructed completely. Opening his left, he closed his right and saw that there was no obstruction.

"Flame!" he yelled, "I've lost all sight in my right eye!"

"Artemus, you think you can help Jorcy down?"

"Yeah, c'mhere Jorcy, I'll get you down."

Jorcy, reluctantly albeit, walked over to where he thought Artemus was at.

"Don't worry," Flame tried to reassure, "I knew someone who went blind before, and they were also a Flamedramon---"

"Oh, that's comforting," Jorcy sarcastically snapped.

"…and they got their sight back."

Through tight spaces in confined places, the journey to Flame's home was a treacherous one.

"Flame, if you ever tried to sell your house on the market, you'll have to widen your front door a little more."

"I guess," Flame chuckled, "Well, here we are."

A massive chamber lit by torches. The ground had many stalagmites of even more sizes all over the massive room. The ceiling of the massive expanse seemed to have a rolling patter on it, but Jorcy couldn't tell with one good eye.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing up.

"Lavaicicles, this is actually a small magma chamber of a dead volcano," he said, walking over to where he kept his supplies, "Go ahead and lay down, I'm going to get some Clear. Try and make yourself comfortable."

"Why, is this going to hurt?"

"Hell yes it will hurt," Flame said, truth blasting away. Silence hushed over the room as the distant sound of rummaging echoed off of the huge walls.

"ECHO!" Artemus yelled, amusing himself as it did indeed echo off of the walls.

"Please for the love of all things holy, don't start up Artemus."

"Oh c'mon Jorcy! Quit being a jerk about everything I do. Just because _you _may not like my jokes doesn't mean I'm actually funny to some."

"Some being a very small audience, right?" he quipped.

"Back!" Flame said.

"That's a big doohickey!" Artemus said, walking over to help Flame.

"Yeah, Art, you mind helping me tie him down?"

"Tie me down!" Jorcy was suddenly uncomfortable.

"Yeah, we don't want you going bananas and ruining the whole procedure."

"Alright, fine."

As they tied him to the ground, Artemus nailed the fiber-like rope into the ground, securing it. They tied his legs, arms, chest and head at several places, keeping him strapped tight to the floor. A quick wiggle test proved that no matter how hard Jorcy might try, he was down on the floor for the count.

"Jorcy, I don't have anything to knock you out with other than a punch, is that alright?" Flame asked.

"No! No more punching, I'll be fine."

"Fine," Flame said, "But I'm going to give you some metal to bite down on when it hurts, okay?"

"Yeah," Jorcy said, opening his mouth as Flame gently put a small metal plate into.

"No need to tell me if it'll hurt Jorcy," he said as a loud noise like that of a power-screwdriver from hell revving up to speed, "Just try and remain as calm as possible. Artemus, I want you on Jorcy incase he breaks through the straps, okay?"

"Gotcha'!" he confirmed. Jorcy felt the weight of Artemus hovering over him as he looked up to both of them through his left eye.

"What exactly are you going to be doing?" Jorcy asked nervously.

"Well, first I'll have to remove your goggles. They're screwed into your face apparently. I've no clue how deep they are, but we're about to find out. After that, it'll just be putting some powdered Clear on your face. The powder is much more concentrated than the liquid, so it might actually heal your eye completely. After that, we'll have to put your goggles back on."

"Sounds fun," Artemus sarcastically joined in.

"Alright," Flame said, placing the tip of the machine on the first screw, "Countdown?"

Jorcy's mind raced to find anything to divert his attention to. This was about to become a modern day Greek tragedy in his mind if he couldn't keep it from coming in.

"Three!"

Looking for anything his eyes could see, he focused in on a patch of lavacicles that reflected the dancing light of the torches in a funny way.

"Two!"

It wasn't working. Jorcy thought back to a time honored technique that had helped him survive through the painfully boring lectures of high school: chewing on the side of your mouth. He gave it a go and immediately tasted blood. Obviously, in his digimon form, his teeth were much sharper. So much for that idea.

"One!"

This was it. The moment of truth. The split second before experiences a bone-breaking impact into the ground. The fleeting instant before tweaking your knee too far to the left as you attempt to kick a soccer ball. It's that one moment before you know you're about to feel serious pain that you finally come to grips with it. But Jorcy, not one to give in at all, was terrified.

"Go!"

The drill screamed to life and the most unsettling sensation Jorcy had ever felt and will most likely ever feel in his lifetime went through his body. It was similar to the feeling of dragging one's nails on a chalkboard. A searing pain wrapped in pure uncomfortable squirm racked through his face. Barely holding himself together, Jorcy wanted it to stop. On top of the "nails on a chalkboard" feeling, the spinning sensation of the screw was similar to someone pulling a dagger out of one's face but turning it while doing so. Biting into the metal, his fang like teeth left deep imprints. Once the first screw came out with a bit of blood on it, a huge feeling of relief fell onto Jorcy.

"One down," Flame uttered, "Six to go."

Jorcy's left eye opened wide in panic. The motor screaming and turning the screw out of his face. The pain was undeniable and his body was reacting in total shock. Flame noticed Jorcy pushing as hard as he could against the restraints, trying his hardest to break through them.

"Artemus!!!" he had yelled over the drill, "I'll need you to hold Jorcy down!"

"Righty-o!" he yelled back, placing his weight onto Jorcy.

After the second screw, the pain began to slowly subside, his body becoming accustomed to the excruciating feeling. That was until Flame began work on the final screw. Its motor fired up but the drill bit skipped over the surface, pulverizing any of the indentations made into it. Immediately noticing his mistake, he turned the drill off.

"I just stripped the screw head," he muttered. He flung the drill across the room, letting his frustration go as it smashed into the rock wall. Jorcy almost choked on the metal in his mouth.

"And," he added, "I probably shouldn't have thrown the drill."

"So what do you suppose we should do?"

"Well," Flame said, slipping his hand gauntlet on, "Something I really don't want to do," he said, walking around to the right side of Jorcy, "Alright, I know this will hurt a lot more than the drill will."

He gently tugged the goggles up, finding a gap between frame and skin. He slowly slipped one of his long claws into the gap.

"You'll feel a bit of pressure," he admitted. Jorcy clamped down on the metal. Without any countdown or warning Flame began to pry against the goggles and the single screw. Striping the threading was the only way to remove the screw, and Jorcy's face contorted with pain. Biting down hard, he shattered the metal. Spitting out the pieces in surprise, Jorcy voiced his concerns of the level of distress he was feeling in a sequence of painful, skin crawling roars sounding like a wounded puppy.

It felt like someone was trying to tear his face wide open. Jorcy had a slight moment of amusement in which he did realize that his face was, in a sense, being torn open. Then reality kicked…more like pried back in. The utter annoyance of being thrown so much shock in such a small amount of time was beginning to annoy Jorcy until he heard Flame's roar of pain. The amount of force he was applying to his friend's goggles through one of his long claws was beginning to hurt just as much as Jorcy was. With a sickening squelching crunch, the final screw came out, letting one side of the goggles loose. The left side still attached to his face and the drill destroyed, Flame had an idea about how to remove the right side.

"Artemus, do you think you can cut Jorcy's goggles down the middle?"

"Sure," he said, spinning his hands up.

"Lay still Jorcy," he said, thinking there might be some comfort in what would hopefully be the final procedure in a truly traumatic incident. As soon as the spinning blades hit the goggles, they sliced through with the greatest of ease.

"Alright," Flame said, "Time for the Clear."

He dropped some of the powder on what was left of Jorcy's eye. It stung slightly, but was nothing compared to the last five minutes.

"Alright guys, I'm going to go get Kaida," Flame said, specifically looking towards Artemus, "Make sure to rest up."

Flame went from a light stride to full blitz of a sprint. He flew out of the massive cavern in no time flat.

"So," Artemus said, clearing his throat, "Want to hear a joke?"

* * *

**Everyone gets a free round of pain! I swear to god this is like something out of some 70's B-movie along the lines of "Blacula" and "Shriek of the Mutilated". Actually, "Blacula" is somewhat amusing.**

**Referenced a character from NightDragon0's "Digimorphs" as an homage to his brilliant story that gave me the courage to start writing Digimon junk again.**


	14. The Grind

* * *

**Invisible**

**Chapter 13**

**The Grind**

* * *

"And you would be?" Montgomery asked, annoyed he had been moved from project manager to managerial assistant. James, whose original ranking was now where Montgomery resided, had been downgraded to a simple project aide, much to his verbally loud dismay.

"This is bull!" James barked, unhappily watching the screens.

"Lt. General Ziek. I was sent by the NRO's offices to take over this project and start to assess the threat we are dealing with."

"Threat?" James threw out for Montgomery to use.

"Threat?!" Montgomery accepted: time for a double team, "What threat? Unless you consider some young kid to be a threat to national security, which would blow my mind if that was true.

"Don't underestimate the cunning ways of terrorists. They'll recruit anyone they can to do their dirty work for them. Everyone has a price, this Mr. Jorcy included."

"You're kidding me right?" Montgomery blew off Ziek's words, "This is hardly a logical argument. The government of the United States of America has its tail between its legs because of a weird signal emanating from wherever a teenager goes? Lord knows what happens when we piss off the fringe group al-Toddlers."

"If you'd like to look at it that way then you can Montgomery. As far as I'm concerned, everything points to this Mr. Jorcy being a threat. Whether he is or not, I've set up a task force to be ready to capture him for interrogation as soon as he pops back up."

"We have intelligence reports that state he is holding vital information, so that means he's the main target of our project? Did anyone tell you we're still in our testing phase? Errors can occur in a testing phase. That's typically what they're used for."

"The NRO is satisfied enough with the data you've acquired to move ahead and pursue Mr. Jorcy. We want to know what his motives are, and specifically why he's been around these massive bursts of electromagnetic energy."

"So let me get this straight," Montgomery's eyebrows twitching with skepticism, "We're going to be capturing a US citizen based on a hunch as opposed to hard facts?"

"If it needs to be put that way, then yes."

"I think I remember reading about an organization that used that kind of rationale in a book we had to read while at West Point. I can't remember what they were, could you Monty?"

"Oh, yeah, I remember. I read the same book. It was about the KGB and their work for Khrushchev."

* * *

Kaida had no way to react, she just listened to Flame at her door calmly tell her that Jorcy was back in town and badly hurt. He instructed her to contact UNDER, and she was immediately linked up with Edan and Dragen. Giving them the location, they estimated they would be there in 20 minutes. As she ran back to Flame's cave, nervous anticipation on seeing Jorcy again grew within.

* * *

"Jorcy?!"

"Yeah?" he softly answered, coming into consciousness. His eyelids felt as heavy as stones. Lips chapped and nearing the deep end of dehydration. Enough blood lost to make anyone pale and sickly; his face and body caked with dirt, blood and the edge of hard battles. Kaida thought she had known Jorcy as something nearly invincible. This time he was on display for her to see that he was, very much indeed, mortal after all. He looked like someone

"Looks like you got into a fight with a firefighter," she joked, her strength keeping her tears well away from showing themselves. She knew it made no sense, but a toothy grin separated Jorcy's lips.

"I feel like I'm in the middle of Madison Square Garden and in a hell of a fight with myself," he joked, laughter being the best medicine.

"We're going to have a pick-up in five minutes," Flame said, quietly coming up behind Kaida.

"That's good," Jorcy said, "I can hang in there for that long."

"Well, let's hope so," Flame candidly chopped, "We need you now more than ever."

* * *

**I'm back.  
**


	15. Return

Invisible

**Chapter 14**

**Return

* * *

**

Battered. Bruised. Unsure and unwanted. A host of words described Jorcy Black in his current disheveled state. The black track jacket back on. Those shorts showing through. If anyone hadn't known any better, it was probably Day 1 at Chelone all over again.

"Are you glad to be back?" Edan asked.

"I've been waiting for this to start for a long time. Can we please, please just get this going again?"

Ever present at gauging emotions correctly, Edan could find the tiredness in Jorcy beginning to reach a breaking point. Carefully calculated silence followed, not wanting to push his friend over the edge. The biomechanical Guilmon was in too good of a mood to want to bring him down.

Kaida entered, human form carrying a pitcher of water and several glasses. She set one down on the table in front of Jorcy.

"You're probably dehydrated," she poured, "You'll want to drink as much as you can over the next few days."

The deep leather chair's comfort opposed the hard grain of the circular black table. A similar track of lights above threw a harsh florescent glow. Sitting 90 degrees from each other, voids agape and noticed.

Three were seated, all of them waiting for Flame. Jorcy cleared his throat, a masculine sound echoing off the far away walls concealed in darkness. One of the doors opened with calculated caution. Taking a large drink, he eyed Flame making his way across. Once Flame had seated, the room devoid of sound, Jorcy cleared his throat again and loudly set his water down.

"We are in…a crisis," Flame began, "Death for data has never meant a permanent end. You die, your data is collected, recycled and you're born-again. Life is cyclical, always in a state of returning to."

"Unless you're of peculiar design," Jorcy rebutted, "I'm sure all four of us knew of someone who was…unusual in terms of this perfect system."

A stare from Flame before he continued, "Something has blocked the reassembly process. Death _is_ an end now."

"So?" Jorcy was casual reaching for the glass again, "Now you've all got a real trait of humanity. Congratulations, you're one step closer to reality."

"Cut it out Jorcy."

"I don't need you to tell me what to do anymore," he snapped back at Kaida.

"And I don't need you to speak for me Kaida," Flame stood, hoping into the circular empty space in the table, rapidly approaching Jorcy, "Continue on with your apathy Jorcy, it's really making you such a tough one in this world of the meek. Go on, add up your score already and call it a day."

"I am absolutely disinterested in helping anyone out, especially those that can be attributed to the end of the one and only family I had."

"And what of me Jorcy? What of Edan? And Kaida? Are we not so close to you? You have to help us Jorcy. There's a reason you have to."

"Why?"

"Why? Why? Two-thirds of a population wiped-out completely and this doesn't spark something within you?"

"No! As a matter of fact, I can't care anymore," he stood, pushing his chair over. Its crash thundering through the room, I have no, read me Flame, NO vested interest in you, your kind or your problems."

He grabbed his glass, ice somewhat melted, and threw it onto Flame's face, "Fix it your fucking self."

Flame stood shocked. He slowly looked down to his arm, the water beginning to boil off of his skin. Edan ran off after a quickly-left Jorcy. Kaida hesitantly stood, unknowing of what to do. Flame stood perfectly still, soaking, steam rising.

* * *

Lost within the complex, visibly upset.

"What in hell Jorcy?"

Stopping, dead still. Turning to the mesh of machinery and flesh, one he had saved naught but a year before.

"Who do you think you are? Have you forgotten your roots suddenly?"

"Not my roots! Roots thrown upon me? Yes! But _my_ roots? No! I don't need to worry about any of this anymore Edan. I just want to go home already. What does it matter to me in what happens to this world?"

The path in front of him was full of adjacent hallways. He couldn't remember where they led and hesitated where to move to relieve himself of the red scaled nuisance.

"I die, you die."

"What?"

"If I die, you die as well. This world goes? You're going with it."

"Don't push me Edan. You're about the only one left here that I still like."

"I'm not pushing, I'm telling you. Recycling of data includes the Digital World itself. It's nearly a quarter gone and that number is growing every day. Once it goes, all data everywhere is gone. It will be the end of your world's computer systems and eventually the end of Jorcy Black."

Thinking deeply. Was his own life worth saving? Sense and logic hitting him in the face harder than ever.

"I'm saving your life for once Jorcy," a smile creeping across the broad muzzle.

"I like living."

"That's good to hear," awkwardly reaching behind himself and presenting a sheet of paper, "I made you a map to find your old room."

"Thanks Edan," Jorcy nearly whispered, holding out a fist which Edan promptly bumped with one of his balled-up claws, "Is all data lost presently able to be recovered?"

"No," he turned, "No chance of saving anything destroyed. You may want to go talk to Flame."

"Where would I find him?"

"In the gym as always."

"Why do I need to speak to him, can't you tell him for me that I've changed my mind?"

"That's something better suited for you to say to him, I'd apologize. You're not the only one with a loss around here to contend with."

"Come again?"

"Gennai."

Jorcy's stomach sank.

* * *

_I CAN'T DO THIS I'M GOING TO BE KILLED He's going to kill me Stop Don't Go In NOW_

His mind raced, standing in front of the gym door. The noise from inside was constant. The Flamedramon was no lighter in training than he was when killing. Finding no point to avoid the inevitable, he opened the door to find the blue-armored friend nowhere to be found. Instead, Kaida in her ever graceful lighter-shade of red Guilmon self stopped to look over.

"I've been tested."

She burned holes through him in sight. The unforgiving eyes made him feel pushed away.

"These past four days, they've…they've set me right to my limit," he dragged a hand down his face, "And I'm sorry. There are so many things I need to say sorry about, but above all…I just…I'm sorry."

"Go talk to Flame," she kicked a bag, "He'll have an ear to hear you."

Turning down the hallway as Kaida slipped into the gym, Jorcy was jumbled, "Why is this all happening to me right now? It's like someone decided to plan my lowest of lows with everyone."

From out of nowhere, like an earthquake, "I'm not mad at you!" Artemis chimed in, standing in the hall, "At least, all I can infer from that attitude of yours is that you're a Mr. Teary-Eyes! Turn that frown up-side-down sir!"

"Oh my God, just when I thought I couldn't get any lower."

"Cheer up! It's always brighter tomorrow!"

"Artemis, have you ever heard the phrase 'Don't want to live, but don't want to die.' before?"

"Why yes," he scratched a shielded chin, "I do believe I once heard that."

"Think about it for a while."

No time to hesitate and await a slew of bad jokes from the ninja, time to run through the halls and try to find Flame. The purveyor of bad comedy was frozen mid-though, attempting to free the meaning in his mind as Jorcy was away.

A few minutes of walking had him rehearsing an apology to Flame. Once he found the ladder to get him above ground, he switched over to sunglasses and moved his way up. A survey of the surrounding hanger saw the sleek form seated, back to the opened door's inner-edge.

"No news is good news I suppose," a glum Flame lamented.

"It is."

"Kaida told me you didn't know."

"No news is good news."

"And I suppose I can't be mad. You are, after all, your own."

"Does this mean we're clear?"

"Yeah, we're clear."

"Alright," Jorcy folded his arms, closing himself off, "After all's said and done, I think I'd be willing to have another crack at it."

"Really?" the weight on both their shoulders lifted, floating away to elsewhere.

"Sure," Jorcy smiled, "Either way I'm dead."

"Well then," he extended a claw, "Welcome back."

They shook.

* * *

**Do over. OH HAI FFN.**


End file.
